


Stripped

by EvilBecky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Attempted Sexual Assault, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pole Dancing, Rape/non con not in this chapter yet, Sex for Money, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, but there is sex, just know that they are having it, lap dance, no descriptive sex, not in detail anyway, they are having the sex, we just don't describe it, we just won't say what they do, workplace harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilBecky/pseuds/EvilBecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy Novak has been a stripper for a few years now. He likes his job and it shows in the showers of ones he gets just about every night. But when his job at The Roadhouse comes to an end he finds that not a lot of places measure up. Except one. A mysterious club with a high-end clientele and an even more mysterious name is looking for new recruits. The boss is a shadowy figure who controls everything from behind the scenes. The dancers constantly hook up with one another. And there seems to be more than just dancing going on in the dark hallways behind the stage. Is this place really Jimmy's dream job? Or is it just a nightmare waiting to come true?</p><p>Step inside and find out for yourself, my dear.</p><p>Welcome to Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opening Night

**Author's Note:**

> I had previously put the Rape/Non-con warning on this piece, but I removed it because of how i've changed the chapters coming up. There is still sexual assault, but nothing horrible happens. I promise! I will put a warning on the chapter it happens, though, so none of you get a nasty surprise. Again, nothing Game Of Thrones, but still gonna let ya'll know! Love you, guys!

Jimmy Novak had been a stripper for about five years now. When he was eighteen, he left his sheltered and abusive life behind him and moved to a rundown apartment in the middle of the city. He had no phone, no car, and was working for a pittance at a diner. His days had consisted of work, eat, sleep, repeat. Everyone told him that he could go back to school and get a career, but doing what? And with what money? His overbearing parents had cut him off until he, and I quote; “came back home and renounced the ways of sin”. Well, Jimmy wasn’t going to stop his ‘sinning’ any time soon and, besides, if he showed his ass anywhere near his hometown again he would be set upon by all his childhood bullies who still hadn’t given up their homophobic bashing. Basically he had two choices; continue to live off the crap job he had, or find a brand new one.

One of his waitress friends had suggested stripping as a jest but when he considered it, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. The hours, for one, weren’t nearly as brutal as the diner job and the tips were far better if you worked hard at it. Plus he had always been told that he was a pretty good dancer despite the fact that he sometimes looked as though he was uncomfortable in his own skin. With this same friend’s help, he went around town to the three known male strip clubs looking for an opening. The first was underwhelmed by his lack of experience while the other was so dirty and dingy that Anna pulled him away before he even had a chance to see the manager.

Third time was the charm. The Roadhouse was run by an older woman, Ellen, who looked at Castiel as though he was a lost puppy. But she didn’t take any shit from her dancers or her patrons, calling him out on his lack of pole experience. Once he was hired he slowly began to work his way up from part time server to full time dancer, honing his skills through the tutelage of the other dancers. Just as he’d hoped, the hours were great and the money was so much better that he was able to move from his broken apartment to a much nicer building closer to the metro. The next two years saw him as a headliner and master of poles; his shtick including a tiny set of black angel wings strapped to his back as he twirled and spun around on the silver pole, getting rained on with hundreds of singles. With a surprisingly secure job and his life ahead of him, Jimmy could actually see himself continuing this line of work for a good long while. 

And then the news came of Ellen’s retirement. Although her club was fairly successful and her boys were like her family, her actual family was calling for her. Jimmy was sad to see the doors close for the last time but Ellen gave him high recommendations to several other places, including a business card with a very peculiar look. It was jet black with deep red lettering. One word was emblazed on the front of the card, the A in the middle replaced with a pentagram, which only added to the mystery of the place. It was called Supernatural.

It had opened only six months before, but the club had already gained a strange reputation. It catered to a more high-end clientele with a very secretive theme. But, from the title of the club itself, he figured it was something along those same lines. The owner had scrawled his own personal phone number on the back in red pen in a crude yet elegant hand with a tiny heart next to it. When Jimmy called the number a man named Crowley with a rough British accent listened to his story.

“I’ll tell you what; I’ll let you come over one night for free. You can even have a drink if you want. Once you get a feel for the place you can decide whether or not to join our little family.”

The very next night he showed up and was let in immediately by the gruff looking security guard, who tilted his trucker cap at him and gave him a surprisingly friendly smile. The outside had made something of an impact; it looked like a warehouse covered in spray painted symbols that looked old and archaic with a red neon sign that resembled the name on the card overhead and bathed the street below in blood red light. The inside was a bigger surprise than he imagined. The interior was lit in soft amber and dark light with red cushioned seats around dark wood tables that looked ready for a séance, including Ouji boards and tarot cards set in resin on their surface. Three mini stages with poles in the middle of them dotted the floor where people could get a more intimate demonstration and at the back there was a large stage with a dark red curtain and a catwalk jutting out from it. From the layout of the stage he could tell that a pole could be set into the very end of it, but it was stowed away underneath the dark wood for a later performance. The whole place had an old school night club feel to it. And after reading the ‘rules and regulations’ board on the back of the bar he could tell that this wasn’t your typical strip joint. 

With the seats filling up, he found his name tag on a bar table in the back. But even from this distance he could see the stage very well. He half expected the owner to show up and sit with him, but as the place filled up and his free drink came to him he found that he would enjoy this night all on his own. Not that he minded; he rather liked being by himself with his thoughts. And it wasn’t like he was defiantly going to interview. He had to see what kind of place this was first. Sure, there were rumors, but the patrons were of the sort who didn’t particularly want it known that they frequented a strip joint. And the few people allowed in who weren’t from high society were instructed to leave their cell phones in their bags and pockets. There was to be no pictures, no recording, and no paparazzi. This Crowley guy kept a pretty clean shop. Jimmy supposed that was why this place was so successful.

Jimmy watched from the shadows, his eyes fixed on the main stage. As the crowd mingled about in anticipation he shifted in his seat, making sure that he still had a good view. His drink sat in his hand, completely untouched. The bartender, a pretty girl with wavy black hair, called it ‘Demon’s Blood’ and it looked to be some sort of cherry schnapps mix with skull and crossbones ice cubes. But he was too anxious for the show to begin to even take a sip. For a strip club it was extremely quiet, with all the patrons sitting around sipping their drinks and chatting excitedly to each other. The owner had stressed that this was an upscale place and he would, as he put it over the phone, “not take any low brow shenanigans in my establishment.”

Just as he was about to raise the glass to his lips, a female voice came on over the loud speaker. She was sultry and seductive with a low toned voice as she announced the first act. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Supernatural.” This was followed by a smattering of applause and a few low cat calls. “Tonight you will witness the weird, the wonderful, and the otherworldly. Tonight, you will be amused…and aroused. Tonight, your wildest fantasies collide with your worst nightmares. But do not fear the dark, for it is there that you will find the sweetest of treats.”

Already Jimmy was feeling his heart beat up in his chest. He felt a little out of place in the swank joint, surrounded by plush cushions, red curtains, and amber lights. This place was different but not just in its appearance and clientele. There was an air of mystery and elegance, veiling an undertone of seduction and lust. It was almost like one of those clubs you would read about it corny romance novels. But he was sure that what he was about to witness was beyond anything else he had ever seen in a strip club.

“Please, join me in welcoming to the stage our very own songbird and his fiery companion; Michael and Lucifer.”

Applause and whistles welled up as the curtains parted, allowing a tall, well built man in a three-piece suit to walk out to the middle of the stage with a microphone in his hand. He wore a fedora that half-hid his face but allowed everyone to catch glimpses of his dark hair, brown eyes, and strong jaw. Accompanying him was a second man in a short sleeve button up shirt, trousers, and vest. He waltzed out carrying two long chains, each with what looked like squares of wadded up fabric at the ends. He stood off to the side and a little bit behind the singer, giving everyone glances from behind heavily lidded eyes. His sandy colored hair was dusted with a slight shimmer and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone. His pants were fairly skin tight, allowing the crowd to see the his tight muscles underneath. The two stood there for a moment, waiting for their cues. 

Michael lifted the microphone to his mouth, smirking a bit at the people around him and began to sing in a gorgeous, low timber voice that made Jimmy’s heart ache. As he did, Lucifer began to dance, spinning the chains around to illustrate the lyrics. He was a phenomenal dancer; both athletic and sensual at the same time. He moved his hips and threw his head back, the chains spinning and twirling with effortless precision. Jimmy recognized the song immediately and yet it felt like a completely unfamiliar tune in that low, lovely voice.

"Birds flyin’ high  
You know how I feel  
Sun in the sky  
You know how I feel  
Breeze driftin’ on by  
You know how I feel  
It’s a new dawn  
It’s a new day  
It’s a new life  
For me…"

When he paused, Michael let his tie loose, letting the notes hang in the air for a moment. Several people gave appreciative calls to him as Lucifer knelt on the ground with his back turned. He was doing something with his chains, but from the angle his was looking, Jimmy couldn’t see. Not like he wanted to; Michael had his full attention as he flicked off his fedora and flung it to the side, looking out at the audience with such a cock-sure look on his face that you couldn’t help but be transfixed by. He lifted the microphone to his lips again, pausing a moment before continuing.

"…And I’m feelin’…  
Good."

As the music exploded with a trumpet and trombone fanfare, Lucifer’s chains seem to magically catch fire. He spun and twirled the comet-like props around over his head and all around, moving his body just as effortlessly as before. He pranced around in front and behind Michael as he stood in his position, moving his own body to the seductive tempo. He slowly shrugged off his jacket in time with the beat, causing the audience to call out to him in admiration. With Lucifer spinning along with him, the song took on a whole new meaning. As he came up to the next bar, he started to undo his vest, handing his microphone off to a waitress who whisked it away. He continued to sing on a hands free set as he moved about and sung, all the while not even noticing Lucifer’s fire dance that was going on around him as well.

The song continued for a while, the two men leading each other out to the catwalk. And then it started to get intense. Coming up right behind Michael, Lucifer reached his arms out in front of them both and spun his poi so close to Michael that Jimmy was sure he would hit him. But it didn’t seem to faze the singer, who not only sang even more passionately, but reached his hand up to Lucifer’s face and ran his fingers down his cheek. Grinding up against a man who was spinning torches mere inches from you didn’t seem like much of a turn on until Jimmy watched them in action. Michael’s face echoed the want in his beautiful voice as Lucifer smiled back at him spinning the poi now up over their heads, giving him a little peck on the cheek . Michael turned to face him and ran his hand down his chest, their faces so close that Jimmy was sure they would kiss. As Michael grabbed Lucifer’s shirt and pulled it away, Lucifer looked as though he would love nothing more than to take him right then and there on the stage. And the weirdest thing was; Jimmy wouldn’t have stopped them.

When Michael backed away, Lucifer pursued, spinning even faster and with more fury than before. Michael shrugged off his vest and tossed it to the ground. His voice began to crescendo with the next measure, sending Jimmy’s heart up into his throat as he did. The fire dancer stopped about two feet from the singer, his poi still spinning and his body pulsing to the beat. Their eyes locked and the whole room felt the heat, not from the comets that zipped through the air, but from the glance the two men gave each other. Michael theatrically held out his arms as if to catch Lucifer and threw his head back as he sung.

  

"Dragonfly out in the sun,  
You know what I mean, don’t you know  
Butterflies all havin’ fun  
You know what I mean  
Sleep in peace when day is done  
And this old world is a new world  
And a bold world  
For me…"

And then, with the slightest flick of his wrist and a sensational body lunge, Lucifer threw his poi out towards Michael. They just barely hit his shirt, but it was enough to catch it on fire. The audience gasped as the singer was suddenly engulfed in flames from the waist up. Jimmy was about to jump up and assist when, just as suddenly as it caught, the fire disappeared, along with the shirt. What stood in its place was a spectacular body with deep set muscles and hips that jutted out from his extremely low cut pants. With a body the gods would envy, this Michael guy was enough to send any woman, and most men, swooning. Most of the audience seemed just on the edge of fainting themselves but when the fire extinguished, they went nuts. Jimmy was too transfixed and amazed to add his own noise to the applause. He watched as Lucifer smirked at Michael, slowing the spin of his chains down to a stop. As two prop girls dosed the comets in pitchers of water and detached them from their chains, Michael slowly finished the song, circling Lucifer and running his hand over him several times, bending down every now and then to collect tips from audience members and stuffing half of them in the hem of his pants, the other half, down Lucifer’s.

Jimmy watched as the fire dancer moved, his chains now free and his body taught as a bow. He circled Michael as he finished his song, using his chains to lure him back to the curtains where they had started. The two ended up wrapped around each other, Lucifer with his chest pressed to Michael’s back and the chains going around his arms. Michael looked, in all honesty, on the verge of climax as he finished his song in and equally heavy voice.

"And it’s a new day for me  
And I’m feeling good  
And I’m feeling so good…"

With the last words sung, Lucifer turned Michael around to face the audience and tore his pants away, revealing perfectly cut black underwear that hugged Michael’s body to perfection. He stood there to the adoring cheers of the crowd for a few more beats and then the curtain fell before it got any more hot and heavy, making the crowd explode again in applause and cheers. This time, Jimmy clapped as well, his big blue eyes the size of saucers. If this was the kind of act they opened each night with, then what could they possibly expect him to do? Sure, he could work a pole like nobody’s business and he was an excellent stripper but he wondered just how much that accounted for in a place like this.

As he watched the other acts go on, he let his drink sit there untouched as he sized himself up against the other performers. By the end of the night he wasn’t any more sure about it than he was the night before. But Jimmy wasn’t one to quit without a fight. It was either this or go to the place that had turned him down before. But if he could make it in Supernatural then he would probably be set for life. Those weren’t ones they were handing over and stuffing down underwear; those were twenties. It would be hard to work his way up in a place like this and he would probably have to wait tables for the first few weeks but if that meant a chance to be up there doing what he loved then it was all worth it.

The next day he dropped by for his audition, little black wings in hand and determination in his ice blue eyes.


	2. First Time For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Jimmy has an idea what he's in for, it's time to try out. But watching a show and Supernatural and auditioning for them are two different things. Is he up to snuff to find a place at this mysterious and other-worldly place? Or will he have to settle for a more down-to-earth establishment?

Supernatural got dozens of applications a week even when they weren’t looking for newbies. Most were your typical stripper who thrust his hips and pulled away his Velcro pants to reveal an obviously stuffed banana hammock. Every now and then a diamond would shine through, but he would invariably fall through, either unable to handle the rigorous training schedule or unwilling to comply with Mr. Crowley’s strict rules. It was very rare that they ever even hired anyone but since the popularity of the club exploded over the last three weeks, the owner had to swallow his pride and allow local talent to audition.

But even though he was the owner and creator of Supernatural, Crowley was never involved in the hiring process. For starters, he had the attention span of a gnat. He was too absorbed in his iphone to watch a performance for more than ten seconds at a time. And there was the ever annoying fact that he never got up before two in the afternoon, and even then he lazed about the club and his apartment on the second floor in his boxers and a smoking jacket, a glass of dark liquor in his hand. The job of interviewing was therefore passed to Balthazar and Gabriel.

Being the shortest member of the club, Gabriel made up for it with his rapier wit and comedic timing. He did standup comedy every Saturday night which always ended with him stripped to his skivvies while most nights saw him doing a tongue-in-cheek performance with one of more of the other boys. Balthazar was one of the many skilled dancers at Supernatural but he was known mostly for his skill on the pole. While most people twirled or humped the cold steel apparatus, Balthazar treated it with the same grace and dignity that ballroom dancers treated their partners. He raked in about five or six hundred dollars a night on one act alone. At Supernatural, Balthazar was treated with the same amount of respect and authority as Crowley.

That afternoon, the two sat at a table in the middle of the room, their lunch half eaten in front of them and tall glasses of pink lemonade with the trademark skull and cross bone cubes floating in it. Gabriel thumbed through the pile of applications in front of him, sighing in frustration. “This blows. How come we always get saddled with this job?”

“Because Crowley trusts us.” Balthazar answered. But then he looked up from his pile as a thought occurred to him. “No…scratch that; Crowley likes to push his grunt work onto us. Besides, would you rather Sam did this?”

Gabe visibly shivered. “Are you kidding me? That bleeding heart would give anyone who walked through the doors a job.” He shook his head, taking his glass in hand. “Guess we’d better just get this over with. Who’s next?”

Balthazar looked through the papers and came across the final applicant of the day. He looked the paper over before handing it to Gabe. “Jimmy Novak; 24 years old, pole dancer, worked at Harvelle’s Roadhouse for five years…” His eyebrows lifted in interest. “Seems like the owner thought he was good enough to give him top billing.”

Gabe looked over the application and the recommendation a bit before stretching his legs out in front of him. “Alright. But I leave this one to you, Bal. You’re the Master of Poles here.” He then called for the kid to the center stage.

At least he was good looking. That was a start. Balthazar noted his straight as an arrow posture as he came up center stage and looked over at them with an intense but slightly confused look on his face. His eyes were a crazy color of blue; like really really blue. Bluer than the bluest blue to ever blue. They distracted Balthazar a moment from the outfit he was wearing. He could have cried if he hadn’t found it absolutely hysterical. He wore a slouchy, oversized trench coat over an ill-fitting suit that made an almost laughable profile. He looked like a kid wearing his dad’s clothes for Halloween. Instead, Balthazar put his fist to his mouth, suppressing his mirth. He cleared his throat and crossed his leg over the other one.

“So; Jimmy.” Gabe said, since his partner had forgotten how to form words properly. “It says here that you are a pole dancer.”

“Not exclusively.” He answered in a rough voice, his eyes squinting as he answered. “I do other dances as well. But I suppose that I am best on the pole.”

“Is that so?” Balthazar answered, impressed by his precise manner of speaking. “Why don’t we go ahead and let you give us a demonstration? Did you bring your own music?”

“I uh…” Jimmy looked around awkwardly, his coat swinging about as he did. “I didn’t…know we needed music…”

Balthazar really couldn’t help himself; he out right laughed at him. It wasn’t a rude laugh, but it did show his amusment at the kid for forgetting something so crucial. He shook his head and sighed. Gabriel gave him a knowing look, which he acknowledged with a nod. “Alright. Well, we’ll just play one of my songs. I hope you’re good at improve, kiddo.”

Before Jimmy could say otherwise, the music began. It was none other than ‘Touch Myself’ by Blondie and it was the song the guys used to really test their applicants. While being classically stripper, it was also easy to mess up and could go so very wrong. If this Jimmy kid could do this then he had a definite shot. At first, he stood there a little awkwardly, but once he found the beat, it all felt natural again. As he slowly shrugged off his trench coat, he used it to swing himself around the pole, throwing back his head and slinking down to the floor. Balthazar watched a bit more intently as Jimmy moved pretty effortlessly around the stage, using his leg to swing himself around as he undid his already loosened tie and put it in between his teeth and did a near perfect ballet point on his toes.

Jimmy didn’t have a pre-set dance to the music he used. He would just listen to it and make it up as he went. Sure, for some songs there was a ‘pow’ moment he would use to throw off some article of clothing or do something a little extra special for the girls, but it wasn’t like he had choreographed his every move. This whole routine, like most of his crowd pleasers, was on the fly. He wasn’t watching Balthazar and Gabriel, but if he had been he would know that he was leaving quite an impact. As he threw his head back and moved his body with the precision of a hula dancer, Balthazar could see the potential just sitting there, waiting to be used. Jimmy was athletic and sensual and he used the pole so well that it became part of him. Gabriel laughed to himself when he saw Balthazar leaning forward with his chin in his hand, concentrating hard on the performance in front of him.

Balthazar was a well-known philanderer of both genders. Although he never called himself bisexual; instead opting to call himself an ‘equal opportunity lover’, and Gabe knew the minute Jimmy started dancing that he was in for it. Not only was he young and quite handsome, but his dancing was pretty hot. That and his body was pretty impressive too. Although not muscle bound like Michael or Bal, he was slender and limber with long, tight muscles all up and down his arms and legs. Balthazar was visibly turned on by Jimmy’s use of these muscle and, when he flexed them in a particular way, he squirmed in his chair as if ants were doing the cha-cha in his skinny jeans. And all this with Blondie going on in the background…

Near the end, Jimmy had stripped down to his shirt and underwear, still working for his life. He swung around again, lunging at the beat and making movements to remove his shirt. As he did, Balthazar’s eyes got wide at the sight of a pair of craftily tucked angle wings that had gone unnoticed before then. With a flex of his back muscles, they popped back out and into place. Then, Jimmy began to climb the pole. He made three whole ‘monkey climbs’ as he called them, up the length, throwing his head back with each one before bending his back and sliding down by his ankles with amazing speed. His hands touched the ground and he stood suspended with his ankles wrapped around the pole and a twinkle in his once unreadable eyes. As the song ended, he made a graceful dismount, his legs flexing and touching the ground again.

Gabriel smiled. He already knew Balthazar’s answer. And he wouldn’t be surprised if he took little Jimmy ‘under his wing’ as it were. As Jimmy stood there in that same awkward pose he had before the amazing performance, Balthazar leaned back in his seat and cleared his throat. He looked at Jimmy for a good long while, sizing up his body and factoring in his act.

“That was impressive.” He finally said in a voice that was so disguising the need to get into Jimmy’s pants. “And you do that little move often?”

Jimmy nodded. “Of course. None of the moves I have shown you are new to me. I practice every night in my apartment as well.”

Balthazar nodded slowly, his eyes going up and down him as though scanning his figure for later use. “I see…Gabriel;” He turned to his partner, an amused twinkle in his eye. “Didn’t Crowley say something about an aerial act he wanted to add?”

“I think so.” He really had, but they weren’t supposed to divulge such things out of the office. “You think we might have a candidate for that?”

Before either could say another word, Jimmy cut in. “I’ve been practicing on the trampoline lately. I can jump fairly high.”

Balthazar chuckled with amusement again. “That’s good. That’s really good. Well, Jimmy, I think you might just have a shot here.” He leaned forward, giving him the best bedroom eyes he could and making the young dancer blush. “But; let me ask you something first. How do you feel about a stage name?” 

From a large window up ahead, Crowley had watched the entire performance. He smiled into his cup, the ice clinking against the glass as he swirled it around a tiny bit. This kid was good. And, at this rate, Supernatural was going to be the best thing to hit the city since daytime television. Crowley couldn’t have been more lucky if he wished for it. As he turned away from the window, Jimmy caught a glance of him. But, whether it be from the lights or his giddiness or something else strange and mystical, the owner’s eyes almost seemed to glint a sickeningly red color.


	3. He's My Cherry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he's in, Jimmy can't wait to see what all Supernatural has in store! But the work is hard and demanding and the atmosphere is just so...different than at The Roadhouse. Can he survive his first week of training? Or will he need a little incentive to get him going?

The following week went by in a flash. From the minute Jimmy got news of his new job, everything just seemed to be on fast forward. He didn’t even get to do his laundry that week, it was that hectic. Crowley was a man who believed in quick efficiency and that was evident in the short amount of time it took for Jimmy to get inducted into Supernatural. Yet, in all this time, he didn’t once meet the man face-to-face. There were a few phone calls and that glance from the upstairs window, but he had yet to even meet his employer. It unsettled him a little and almost made him reconsider the position. After all, he had not only known Ellen but she treated her boys like sons. There wasn’t a night at the Roadhouse that you didn’t see her checking on her customers or serving drinks. She even did the announcements a few times on special occasions. Jimmy wondered if Crowley even knew the names of his staff.

Before he knew it, a whole week had passed and it was time for his first lessons. All new dancers at Supernatural are taken through something of a boot camp to test their abilities and train them in all new choreography. He remembered Gabriel and Balthazar saying something about an aerial act, but he wasn’t too sure what they meant by that or that he even had the skills they were looking for. Whatever the case, they had seen potential in his audition and were willing to teach him something new. He only hoped that he could live up to their expectations. 

Supernatural wasn’t just the premier strip joint in town, but also one of the biggest in the country. Not only did it have the main stage, complete with full bar and VIP lounge, it also housed the training facility and dressing rooms for all of the dancers. And it wasn’t just some dingy warehouse; this was a fully functional dance studio with full length mirrors and polished floors with shining silver poles sticking out of it. When Jimmy first saw it, he was amazed. Ellen’s place didn’t even have actual dressing rooms, just a hallway with a rack for costumes. This was an actual dance hall with comfortable quarters for everyone. Crowley could easily pay rent for them if he wanted. 

Past the studio, there were two hallways, one that lead to the lighting and sound stage where their DJs would perform and their stage crew would operate the lights. He had heard that Crowley hired only one man to do all of the lights but he, like Crowley himself, was rarely seen. Jimmy did spot a sign on a door that read ‘Dr. Badass Is’ with a flip sign that said ‘In’ on one side and ‘Out’ on the other. The other hallway lead to the dressing rooms. With red carpet on the floor, dark wood paneling on the walls and lit with mini chandeliers on the ceiling, it matched the theme of the main stage pretty perfectly. Jimmy was reminded of the rooms in The Phantom of the Opera, but on a much smaller scale than the Paris Opera House. He read the names on the doors as he passed them; Sam, Michael, Lucifer, Dean, Gabriel, Balthazar, Adam. There were three empty ones at the end of the hall which, he was told, might be his if he turns out to be any good. He hoped that he would see his name up there soon.

But for now, it was practice. He was sure that these sessions would be much more intense than any he had done before, and prepared as best as he could for them. Balthazar had given him a taste of his own abilities, climbing the pole nearly to the ceiling, spinning and twirling like it was a part of his body. How Balthazar danced, it was more like an acrobatics demonstration than a strip tease. And yet, it was still amazingly hot. He began to wonder if he was even close to good enough for this place. But he couldn’t let those thoughts bother him now. As he walked in through the back door of the club, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, he put nothing but positive thoughts into his head, forcing himself to imagine a field full of daisies with a waterfall in the background. It didn’t necessarily calm him down, but that was what people thought of when they relaxed, right?

As he walked into the studio, he could hear music coming from a boom box in the corner. As the sound of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me filled the room, Jimmy poked his head around the corner. It was probably Balthazar warming up before getting their lessons started. No doubt he would be half way up the pole by now. As the chorus came to its climax, he saw the dancer working it. It wasn’t Balthazar. It was another dancer whom Jimmy hadn’t met yet. And he wasn’t dancing on a pole; he was giving a chair the best lap dance it had ever received.

The first thing Jimmy noticed was how fit he was. Shirtless, he could see every line of definition on his smooth chest. His arms were just as defined, but not obscene like he had seen in other guys. From his powerful legs to his long neck, he was perfectly proportioned with nothing but muscle and sun kissed skin. As he took the chair in one hand and spun it around, he lifted his other arm up above his head, rocking his body to the music. Jimmy then spotted a strange tattoo on his chest; a sunburst with a pentagram in the middle. He wasn’t sure what it meant or if it was just some teenage whim that got him the thick, black ink, but it just seemed to go well with his entire physique. And Jimmy couldn’t help but blush. In his new position Jimmy could now see his face. 

If he thought his body was to die for, then his face was just on the brink of perfection. A square jaw and sandy hair framed a face that couldn’t be much older than Jimmy himself, with a light dusting of barely-there freckles over a straight nose. The eyebrows looked to be in a constant state up half-cocked, with the left one slightly higher than the right. Although his eyes were closed, Jimmy could tell that they were big. But the thing that drew him in most were the lips. Puckered in concentration as he moved his body to the classic rock song, they were thick and soft, which made Jimmy feel a little self-conscious of his dry, thin lips. He watched them as they silently mouthed the words that blared from the boom box. He was transfixed. This guy was a good dancer, sure, but he was also drop dead gorgeous. 

He had those classic elements of stud that Jimmy was so very often attracted to, but was too afraid to pursue. A guy like him was usually uber Alpha Male, with a girl for each day of the week and an ego that would make Napoleon envious. Guys like this were the reason he had to leave town in the first place. Like Chris from the movie theater who winked at him when he handed him his soda or Evan who was the first person to make out with him. Suddenly, looking at this guy dance made him think about that hot afternoon in the boy’s locker room when everyone was outside doing the mile run. He could almost feel those lips pressed up on his and his hands wandering around like two big, warm spiders. But Evan’s face was replaced with this newcomer’s. Jimmy could feel his body reacting to the evocative dance and swallowed hard to keep it at bay as best as he could.

The dancer was grinding up at the chair, straddling it as it faced him. He lowered himself onto the seat, the back resting on his chest as he threw his head back a few times. As the song came to its close, he watched as his legs wrapped around the legs of the chair quite easily. He threw his head back again, but his arms followed, along with the rest of him. Jimmy watched wide eyed as the dancer did a sitting back flip with his legs still around the chair, which hit the floor with a very loud and impressive slam. The dancer ended up on his knees, one arm up in the air and his back arched fantastically. He threw his head back one more time, sweat flicking off his hair, just as the song ended.

Wow. Just…wow. Was there no end to the surprising talent at this strip club? Jimmy watched as the dancer picked himself up off the floor, dragging the chair back to the far wall. Without turning around, he called out to Jimmy in a low, gruff voice. “Enjoy the show, kid?”

Jimmy jumped out of his skin. Had he known that he was watching the whole time? If so did he see the look on his face? Clearing his dry throat, Jimmy came out from his hiding spot and walked into the studio giving the guy plenty of space. He watched as he pushed the chair back against the wall with the others, sitting down on it and grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler on the floor. Unscrewing the top, he took a giant chug out of it making his throat move up and down and his lips to pucker up around the lid. Jimmy turned his head, looking at his reflection in the mirror. How can someone look hot drinking out of a bottle of water?

“You must be the new guy.” The dancer said, wiping water from his mouth. “Gabe said that you were coming over for lessons.”

Jimmy nodded, looking back over at him. He was about to answer, but his eyes locked onto the biggest, greenest, prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Rimmed in long lashes and glistening from their workout, they looked right back at Jimmy with an open, honest aura. He stood there for a few moments just staring into them. He was unable to tear himself from them, no matter how much he wanted to, which, in all honesty, wasn’t very much. He panicked momentarily, thinking this guy would find him weird or stalker-ish. But the guy stared right back, that smile still on his face. He shifted forward in his seat and chuckled shaking his head a little. 

“My name’s Dean.” He finally said.

“Jimmy.” He replied hastily. “Jimmy Novak.”

“Right. Nice to meet you Jimmy.” Dean answered, looking him up and down for a minute. Jimmy felt exposed under those bright green eyes and couldn’t think of what next to say. Thankfully, Dean did. “So…I guess Balthazar’s gonna help you with your routines then?”

“I suppose.” Jimmy croaked out, clearing his throat. “He and Gabriel said something about an aerial act. But I don’t know what that means.”

Dean’s face lit up with something like realization. “Oh…that’s what that box must be for.” He said sort of to himself. Jimmy gave him a confused look which Dean smiled at coyly before picking up his duffle bag. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, kid.”

“Thanks…” Jimmy said. “You too…” He watched him gather up his stuff and turn to leave. Damn, and he had such a fine ass too. His eyes were just drawn to it as he turned and walked away. But, just like that, Dean turned, causing Jimmy to stare right at his rather large package. He blushed brilliantly before looking up at him with as straight a face as he could manage. 

Dean either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He pulled out from his pocket a name tag and tossed it to Jimmy “Here’s your employee tag. It’s got your new stage name on it. Crowley came up with it, so don’t ask me what it means.” He gave him a quick wink and turned right back around, waving at him as he left. “Catch ya’ later, flyboy.”

Once Dean was gone, Jimmy looked down at the name tag. It was black with deep red letters, much like the business card Ellen had given him. But instead of blood, this had black wings on either side of it. In the middle was a name, possibly Latin from the spelling but he really had no idea what it meant. But he supposed he could get used to it. He imagined the female voice calling him to the stage…

"…join me in welcoming to the stage; Castiel."


	4. What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Jimmy...sorry, Castiel has his new stage name, things are really starting to get rolling for him at Supernatural. But things are never calm at this strange club and if Castiel wants to survive, he has to know how to adapt. And when his first performance comes up, he'll have to impress more than just the audience.

By the third day, everyone was calling him Castiel. Whenever Gabriel or Balthazar introduced him to the other dancers it was with his new moniker. When he asked Sam, an incredibly tall and fabulously built dancer with a mane of chocolate brown hair and thick sideburns, what it meant, he researched it for him.

“It is Latin.” He told him. “For ‘fall’ or ‘fall from God’.”

Jimmy guessed it had something to do with the black wings he wore on his audition. But that shouldn’t dictate his entire persona, right? Sam simply shrugged, turning his mouth down in a concentrated frown. “Crowley has a flair for the dramatic. We are talking about a guy who named our fire spinner Lucifer.”

The fire spinner himself was a bit secluded and it was also no secret that he and Michael had an illicit relationship that flip-flopped from truly, madly in love to pissed off at each other. That surprised him the most. Ellen hadn’t exactly forbidden relationships in the workplace, but she didn’t endorse them. Crowley seemed to think it rather lucrative if his staff was making out backstage between shows. He also caught rumors that Balthazar and Gabriel had a bit of fling when they first started but they were on hiatus as of two months ago. As for Sam, Dean and Adam; they were brothers. 

The Winchester trio was quite a feather in Crowley’s cap. Not only were each of them devastatingly handsome but they were each talented dancers and performers. Dean was the oldest and Castiel was already familiar with his love of classic rock ballads and tongue-in-cheek Americana looks. Sam was a dancer, pure and simple and moved his massive body with the grace of a Russian ballerina. He was a bit more simple in his wardrobe; clean suit and ties, working man outfits, and, on occasion, something extra special which Castiel couldn’t get Balthazar to say. Adam was the youngest performer at Supernatural, only just turned nineteen but just as skilled as his brothers. He usually accompanied Gabriel’s routines, being the straight man to Gabriel’s more flamboyant personality. He was Dean and Sam’s half brother by their father, but the resemblance was still there. There was no escaping the Winchester family genes.

Each of the Winchester boys called him Cas for short. Add in the other dancers calling him by his stage name, it was all getting a bit confusing. Jimmy thought it best to just start referring to himself as such. Soon he was answering his phone with a gruff “Castiel”. It was confusing at first, but he was quick to adapt and answered to it more readily than his given name. This amused Balthazar, who was with him most of the time, training him and getting him used to the pace and atmosphere of Supernatural. 

Obviously, Crowley wanted to keep the mystery and darkness in the performances, so Castiel had to learn all new moves, positions, even a different way of holding himself. Balthazar decided to emphasize his straight backed posture by making his entrance more grand and a bit intimidating. He encouraged massive amounts of eye contact due to his “absolutely breath taking eyes”. That comment had caused Cas to blush. There were a few things Balthazar said and did that gave Cas a bit of a quiver up his spine that wasn’t all that welcome. He wanted to be professional. He didn’t want Balthazar to get any wrong ideas about him. Castiel had distinguished himself as being more controlled than his peers when it came to sexual desires. Sure, he had made out a few times with a few guys, and there was this one guy he had dated a while when he first moved to the city. He wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t going to just throw it around like it was on sale.

Besides, he had other things on his mind. For starters, there was ‘the box’ that Dean had mentioned the other day. Balthazar rolled it in on a pallet like it was some sort of ancient artifact. It was about the size of the box from Raiders and twice as mysterious. Crowley had sworn them both to absolute secrecy as to the nature of this performance so when they were finished they had to store the apparatus back in the box it came in and lock it in a storage closet. Several times, Gabriel or Lucifer tried to bribe Castiel into telling them what was inside it, but he was as unmovable as a mountain. Castiel was, if anything, dependable.

A week of training passed. With blisters on his hands and feet and new moves put into motion, Crowley finally saw fit to let him dance. Castiel was relieved. Sure, Supernatural paid well, but it was the tips that really would start to add up. He saw the cars that the boys drove up in and the clothes they wore. No doubt he would easily make enough to move into an even nicer apartment closer to the club where all he had to do was walk to get home. He was tired of pedaling up to the club like some college kid while these guys pulled up in nice, shiny new cars. Everyone, that is, except Dean. Dean drove a classic, black 1967 Chevy Impala. It was big and loud and impressive. He treated that car like it was his girlfriend, pulling it into a covered pavilion and throwing a tarp over it if rain threatened to fall. Whenever he wasn’t practicing he was tinkering with it or polishing it to such a high sheen that you could see your face in it. No one touched Dean’s car under threat of death. Castiel hoped that he would soon have enough money for a car of his own; one that he too would call ‘Baby’ and handle with kid gloves.

But the night of his debut, he rode up to the club on his ten speed and parked and locked it to a light post next to the door. His heart pumping with excitement, he came in through the back and into the studio. He was one of the first people there and decided to do some last minute practices. As he set his bag down on the floor, he could hear loud voices coming from the dressing room hallway. They sounded like they were in the middle of quite a fight and, at first, he tried to ignore them. But every time he would swing around to face the hall, he would catch the tail end of a phrase or an expletive. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and followed the voices down the hall to one of the last rooms. As he read Lucifer’s name on the painted on placard, he could fully hear the conversation through a crack in the door. He could also see through it, although he knew he shouldn’t have. Despite what his mind was telling him, he couldn’t resist the urge to peep.

“…and that’s why I can’t trust you!” It was Michael and he sounded fed up.

“Is that the only reason?” Lucifer asked as he watched Michael from his dressing table mirror.

“Of course it is! What else could it possibly be?”

“I don’t know.” Lucifer answered, huffing on the glass and drawing a little pitch fork into the condensation. “You always seem to come up with one reason or another about why you can’t tell me anything.”

“You just won’t listen.” Michael answered. “And it’s infuriating! Nothing gets into that thick skull of yours!”

“You just complicate things.” Lucifer said. “We were separated, remember? What was it you said…oh, right! You want to ‘meet other people’ or something cliché like that…” Lucifer made bunny ears in the air in front of his face. That smile was still on his lips and a glimmer of joy flickered in his heavily lidded eyes.

Michael sighed. “Look…I can’t take this anymore. Either you figure out your priorities or we are through. Permanently.”

Castiel was about to move as Michael did, but Lucifer moved first, grabbing Michael by the wrist and pulling him close. He grabbed the back of Michael’s head and smashed their lips together in a pretty violent kiss. Cas knew he shouldn’t be watching this…but he just couldn’t stop himself. That kiss looked intense and he could almost feel it along with Michael, who moaned and struggled against it. After a few seconds, he finally pulled away.

“L…let go of me…” he said with very little conviction.

“Why?” Lucifer said. “You seem to like it a lot…at least this guy does.” He slid his hand down Michael’s front until he had his hand on his bulge, running his hand up and down it. As Michael squirmed in his arms, Lucifer pulled him back for another hard kiss. This one Michael didn’t fight as much. As the kiss deepened, so did their noises, which came out rough and guttural as their tongues rolled over one another. Lucifer continued to feel up on Michael, guiding him back to his dressing table. And that’s when it got real hot real quick.

Castiel watched, unable to turn away, as Michael picked Lucifer up and threw him to the table. In a fit of passion, they began to tear at each others’ clothes, all the while grinding up against each other. Michael was moving so viciously that Lucifer slid back and forth across the table, wrapping his legs around Michael’s middle to keep from slipping off. Gasping and moaning and clutching, the two became a cluster of limbs and desperation as their breathing came out hot and heavy. Lucifer raked his nails up Michael’s back as he started to pull off his pants. Michael started sucking and biting on his neck, leaving big angry marks as he did. 

As Lucifer hit his head against the table, gasping for air and moaning angrily, Castiel tried to will himself into motion. This is wrong, he thought to himself. I shouldn’t be watching this. I shouldn’t have started. I ought to just walk away right now and pretend like I didn’t hear or see anything. But…no matter what he told himself he just couldn’t move. His eyes were transfixed as he watched this private scene going on in front of him. Just as he was about to move away from the door, Lucifer found his voice in the middle of his moaning, and spoke to Michael.

“I thought…you wanted a break…” he said with an exhausted chuckle. 

“Just shut up.” Michael said darkly, worrying at his neck and stuffing his hand down Lucifer’s underwear. “I’m gonna break you…so hard…”

As words failed them both, Lucifer fell back onto the table, his arms up above his head as Michael continued to strip him down and attack him with full force. Castiel’s eyes followed the rippling muscles in Michael’s back all the way down his arm as he moved against Lucifer’s body. But further down, he was interrupted by Lucifer’s eyes as they made direct contact with his. Gasping, Castiel made to run away, but Lucifer didn’t say a word. With their gazes locked onto one another, Lucifer smirked at him, arching his back deeply at a particularly heavy handed touch. He let out a satisfied grunt, looking at Castiel as though he were the reason for it. He decided that now was the best time to leave. Getting up as quickly and quietly as he could, he made his way down the hall and back to the studio.

But halfway there, he ran into Balthazar. Dressed in black leather pants and a button up shirt and vest, he gave Castiel a critical look. “Where the hell have you been? I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

Castiel stammered, trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he was there. But as he stuttered, the distinct thumping noise of table legs on the floor echoed down the hall, followed by deep groans and declarations to God. Blushing, Castiel couldn’t look Balthazar in the eye. But the Master of Poles simply scoffed, rolling his eyes into the back of his head.

“Lucy and Michelle get into it again?” He patted Castiel on the shoulder comfortingly. “It’s alright, Cas. Every now and then Michael will get fed up with Lucifer’s shit and they’ll get into a fight and then have crazy makeup sex in the dressing room. I even caught them on the main stage once after a performance. Indecent, really…”

“I see.” Castiel answered, trying hard to ignore the ever growing noises of love making behind him (it was becoming more and more difficult with the addition of glass shattering and rabid cries adding to the mix). “Well…when do I go on tonight?”

“Ah! Right!” Balthazar remembered, leading him away from the amorous soundtrack. “You’ll be opening tonight. Crowley likes to see how his newbies handle the pressure. I call it sadism, but he thinks it’s just another test.”

Castiel felt his throat close up and his back stiffen at the mention of it. Opening. Going first. The first rule of showbiz that Ellen ever taught him was “Never go first”. It was like some sort of nightmare. Like he had ended up in class on the day of a pop quiz and forgot to put his clothes on. He tried not to panic, but it was etched in every line on his face. Balthazar lead him to his own dressing room, chuckling at him as he did. 

“Don’t look so scared.” He said, sitting him down on a stool in front of a large mirror. “You’ll do fine. It’s not like Crowley is trying to feed you to the sharks. The audience is pretty respectful here. And if you remember everything I taught you then you won’t bomb.”

“What if I do forget?” Castiel asked.

“Well…” Balthazar said nonchalant. “Then you’ll be slow clapped off stage.” As Castiel sat there dumbfounded, he handed him his clothes. It was the same trench coat and suit he had on when he first auditioned, but more tailored and the coat looked like it had been burned slightly. As Cas looked over the garments a little, Balthazar handed him a black duffle bag.

“These are from our light guy.” He said. “He saw your little performance and made a few adjustments. Just keep to the routine and it’ll go splendidly.”

As Balthazar made to leave Castiel reached out and took a hold of his sleeve. As he turned, Castiel gave him a forced smile. “Thank you…for everything, I guess…”

Balthazar smiled back, taking his hand in his. “You can thank me by doing a good job.” He leaned down and whispered in his ear in a low, breathy voice which left chills down Cas’ spine. “If you do, I may give you a tip of my own…” With his message delivered, he turned and left Cas to change.

It didn’t take him long to change. At least, it usually wouldn’t. But with everything that had happened to him this last few weeks it was a bit of an emotional overload. He kept flashing back and forth between worrying about bombing and a mental image of being showered in twenties by a lustful crowd. It was all too much. But he did manage to get into his clothes and make his way to the back of the stage. By now, Lucifer and Michael had finished whatever activities they were up to and Cas could hear the gentle hum of patrons entering the club. The background music was low, soft, and powerful which added to the darkness around them. He couldn’t make out many faces but could see glasses moving in the shadows where people were sipping their $15 drinks. The stakes had never been so high before and Cas could feel it in his very being. He was nervous. He didn’t know if he could do this…

“Good luck out there.” 

He whipped around and came face-to-face with Dean. He was wearing a completely black outfit with a red tie, but Castiel was more interested in his face. His smile was warm and comforting, like hot chocolate on a cold winter day. With his face so close and his voice so low, Castiel could almost imagine him on top of him, like in the scene he had witnessed; kissing him roughly and grinding against him hard and heavy. Desperately, Castiel pushed the image from his mind and smiled back at him half-heartedly. 

“Thank you.”

Dean didn’t have time to respond before the husky woman’s voice came over the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen; welcome to Supernatural. Journey with us into the unknown. Follow us as we lead you to a world of darkness and intrigue. And let your mind wonder over the delights we have to offer you.”

Castiel took a deep breath and took his position behind the curtain, sitting down on the floor with his knees pressed to his chest and his forehead down. He took a deep breath. He could do this.

“…and now, join me in welcoming to the stage, our dear fallen angel, Castiel.”

Applause followed the soft sound of curtains moving out of the way. Castiel sat there with his face cast down until he felt the first few beats of the music. Tonight he would be dancing to Marilyn Manson’s cover of Tainted Love. It was hard and heavy and pretty sensual. Honestly, he’d never heard any of Marilyn Manson’s music before this, but he thought it was pretty good. But he wasn’t thinking that now. He was concentrating. He took another breath and counted. Three…two…one…and…

He started to move as though he was breathing heavily, moving his back up and down, arching it slightly. He threw his head back and rolled it around. He did this again, but on the second go around, he looked out into the crowd with his most intense, hurt look he could give. A girl in the audience gasped slightly as his eyes pierced the darkness, but he didn’t pay it any attention. He had a role to play. He had been cast from Heaven. And he had to convince the world that he was in pain.

The first part was a floor routine, where he did a few acrobatic rolls, pointing his feet and kicking up. He laid flat on his back and rhythmically arched up and down a few times, as though he had a string connected to his chest pulling him up and down. When he finally stood, he did his ‘Terminator walk’ (penned by Balthazar) to the middle of the stage, slowly shrugging off his trench coat. He trailed it for a few steps before letting it fall to the floor behind him. And when he reached the pole, that’s when he really got into action.

The moment he started moving his hips and grinding against the pole, he heard the audience’s reaction. They made cat calls and whooped out to him in adoration. He kept flicking his eyes out at random points of light where he knew people were sitting, giving them a good look at his baby blues. He swung around, sliding up and down against the pole. And on his third revolution, he saw a green flash of someone waving a bill at him. Loosening his tie and undoing a few buttons, he slunk down to the ground, hanging his head over the edge of the stage. As the crowd whistled at him, the young lady let him take it in his teeth as she slid another down his open shirt. As he got up, he ran his hands down his front, skillfully tucking the bills into his waistband as he did. More twirls and hip thrusts later, his pants was gone, much to the adoration of the crowd.

He was a natural. He hadn’t forgotten a single step of his routine. It flowed through him seamlessly, just like his old routines, but with more chances for adaptation. By the time he was almost three quarters of the way through with his performance, he had even more bills sticking out from his underwear and a new jolt of confidence. One particularly shy girl came up with a bill in her trembling hands. Instead of just taking it, he took her wrist and guided her towards him with needy eyes. As the crowd cheered her on, she tucked it neatly into his underwear, her nails gently scraping against his skin. As she giggled and returned to her seat, Castiel knew he had won them all over. And now it was time for the biggest reveal of them all.

With both legs wrapped around the pole, he climbed up about two feet above the stage. He felt each and every eye on him, as he began to peel off his shirt. And, in a fantastic display of athleticism, he threw it off, leaning back with only his legs on the pole to keep him there. The crowd gasped as he revealed the new set of remote controlled angel wings on his back. As they gently moved up and down and the crowd clapped even harder, he slunk his way back down into a split on the floor. He gathered more tips from more audience members as he returned to the back of the stage where he fell to the floor as though weak from exhaustion. The song ended, the curtain fell, and the crowd went wild.

Castiel never felt more alive. He had just won over every single person in that audience. As he got up from the floor and moved out of the way for the next act, he didn’t notice the new set of eyes on him. Deep green and wide with wonder, they never left him from the minute he had started. Dean had never seen anything more tragically beautiful and so amazingly sexual before. He felt his body go warm as he imagined those lithe, limber legs circling him like they circled that pole. He wanted those beautiful blue eyes on him with the same passion they gave to that girl. If he could get that head of messy black hair to fling back in ecstasy and that mouth to gasp in silent pleasure, then he could probably cool the fire that now raged inside him. Dean had never wanted anything more than he wanted Castiel at that very moment. If he didn’t get that boy in his bed soon, then he might go crazy.

“Wonderful performance.” Crowley said, as he sat back in his seat in the VIP lounge. He and his guest sat sipping their bourbon and watching the performance where no one else could see them.

“Indeed.” his guest said, adjusting his tie and smoothing it over his crisp suit. “This is quite a little business you’ve got here, Crowley. I’m impressed.”

“You didn’t give me that loan for nothing.” The owner answered in his gruff voice. “I just wanted you to see the fruits of my labor.”

“And they do seem ripe for the picking.” The guest said, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I hope you don’t mind if I become a more frequent visitor.”

“Oh!” Crowley said, raising his eyebrows in interest. “You’ve taken a liking to our little angel then? I would have never pegged you as the type, Dick.”

The guest took another sip of his drink. His face was still, calm, and collected, but underneath he was raging. His blood boiled and his skin crawled with want. The smile on his face was as immovable as a gargoyles and twice as terrible. He cocked a smile at Crowley, a smile worthy of a politician, before he answered. 

“I could eat him up.”


	5. Digits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the success of his first performance, Castiel is now starting to feel at home at Supernatural. He's becoming stronger, more popular with the audience, and his checking account has never been so full! With his professional life going so well, is it time to do something with his social life? Or will his job get in the way of him having a good time?

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had so much money. Even though Ellen had paid well, it wasn’t like she was rolling in the Benjamins. Supernatural was so high end that the lowest anyone tipped in were tens. He made about four, five, and even six hundred dollars a night on tips alone and that wasn’t even on super crowded days. Screw an apartment; at this rate he would be able to afford a house in another six months! 

For the next month he would go to work, strap on his new angel wings, and dance for the entertainment of the crowd. But the work was demanding. He couldn’t half-ass it if he wanted to continue getting the support of he got on that first night. Balthazar didn’t want him using the same moves more than once a week or so, and had him practice nearly six hours a day just to keep up with the demand. Every morning, Castiel would get home, barely able to pedal his bike around the six blocks to his place, and instantly crash into bed. When he woke up, his sheets would be covered in oil and glitter and his muscles would scream in protest to the daily torture. This job wasn’t for first timers and your every day Magic Mike; this was like training for the Olympics. And he felt it all over his body from the moment he woke up to the second he put his head to the pillow.

Gabriel assured him that it would be a lot easier after a while, but no amount of words could soothe the pain that raced through his tendons and threatened to tear his body apart daily. It burned constantly, almost making sleep impossible. And when he showered all he could do was stand there like a statue for fear of bending incorrectly and popping something out of its socket. But Castiel wasn’t one to complain. Even alone in his apartment, he wouldn’t wince or moan or grouse. He counted himself extraordinarily lucky to work at Supernatural and saw the aches and bruises as just a side effect to his giant pay check at the end of the week. Any number of dancers would kill for my position, he told himself. But if half of them knew about the pain they would have to endure, he was sure that they would pause before handing over their resume.

As summer lingered on, Balthazar kicked up the practices. Everyone did. Whenever Cas would show up he would find Lucifer spinning his poi or Sam doing one of his weight lifting numbers to a heavy techno beat. That was probably one of the most impressive things to watch. Being so tall and chiseled so deeply, Sam was a frequent request for private dances on the mini stages and at the VIP lounge. But it wasn’t just cosmetic. He really was that strong. One of his more memorable tricks was having guests sit on his back as he did pushups. One day, Castiel asked him how much he could bench press. Sam wasn’t that sure.

“I bet I could bench press you!” He said excitedly. And before Castiel could protest, he was up in the air horizontally as Sam pressed him up a half dozen times. This impressed the boys so much, that Gabriel added it into his routine the next night. The audience went wild as he and Sam performed Let’s Get Physical, causing a down pour of tips as Gabriel mouthed the words while being lifted up with ease in Sam’s gargantuan arms.

As for Castiel’s secret routine, Balthazar had arranged for its debut on Halloween; the busiest night at Supernatural. “It’s gonna be insane.” Balthazar said as the two stretched and did reps on the poles. “Crowley’s gonna have the bartender mix candy flavored drinks and everyone’s gonna wear masks or something like that. He wants us to come up with even more material especially for it. I know Gabe’s not gonna be happy about that.”

“I haven’t even met Crowley yet.” Castiel said as he worked out his aching muscles. “Does he ever watch a show?”

“From the VIP lounge usually.” Balthazar answered. “But I guess he’s too busy with business to monitor us. It takes a lot of time to manage a place like this. A lot of time and money.”

Castiel supposed that was correct. After all, with such a high paying clientele he would probably have to work double to keep them there. But that still didn’t make up for the fact that he didn’t introduce himself. He lived part time in that apartment above the club and Castiel had seen shadows up there several times. As far as Castiel was concerned, Crowley was just a name. Balthazar was more of a boss than anyone else at Supernatural. If there was a question needed answering or a money issue, even drink shortages, the staff brought it up to him. He knew the names of everyone there and made sure that their problems were taken care of in a timely fashion. If anyone were to ask Cas who ran Supernatural, he would have to point to Balthazar.

But there were times when Balthazar didn’t look at Castiel as though he were his employee. Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of him in the mirror eying his body as he stretched. He could feel his eyes on him as he bent over backwards or when he thrust out his hips to the music. It was almost impossible for him not to notice especially when Balthazar didn’t do a good job of concealing it. He would sometimes sit in a chair near the back of the studio pretending to drink out of a bottle of water when, in fact, he was really just watching with hungry eyes. Even though his job had him stripping down to his bare necessities on a nightly basis, when Balthazar looked at him like that Castiel felt truly exposed.

And then, there was Dean. Ever since his break out performance, Dean seemed to just disappear from sight. Every now and then Cas would catch a glimpse of the dancer here or there as he went down the halls or wandered out of the studio. They hadn’t spoken since that night either. Just the random ‘hello’ or ‘sorry’ as they bumped into each other on their way to the stage. But he could feel those intense green eyes on him. It was weird and a little off-putting, but not all that unwanted. Dean was a very attractive guy and Cas would be lying if he said he didn’t think about him often. The practice he witnessed in the studio was just a taste of what he could do. He could turn a customer to mush with the slightest flick of an eyebrow or turn of the head. He got personal requests from tables and was asked to do several appearances at other bars. Of course, he never accepted them, because Crowley had a strict no share policy. He didn’t want any of his boys wandering off to other clubs and divulging secrets. Castiel only wished that he could gather the courage to go up to him and say something.

He finally got his chance one afternoon as he walked in for practice. Dean and Sam were hanging out after their own warm ups when Cas walked in. Sam was drinking from what looked like a small cup of coffee (It was a normal sized cup. Sam was just so big and tall that everything looked like Barbie furniture in his massive hands). He excused himself, claiming he had ‘a thing’ and leaving the other two alone. Dean looked a little confused and annoyed at his younger brother. Castiel mentally thanked him. But now that he had him there with him, what should he say? A simple greeting would be expected, of course, but after that it was a complete mystery to him. Social interactions were not Cas’ forte and it was beginning to show.

After standing there for a few awkward moments, Castiel spoke up. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean nodded to him. “Hey…you here for practice?”

“Yes.” Castiel answered, setting his bag down only to pick it back up again because he just needed something to do with his hands. “Uhm…are you…opening tonight?”

“Nah.” Dean answered, shuffling his feet around. “Adam and Gabriel are. I think they said something about a Cabaret theme or something. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

And then followed the awkward silence. Castiel finally set his bag down on a chair, unzipping it and putting his jacket inside. He flicked his eyes up to Dean, catching his in that little moment before looking back down again. He couldn’t remember the last time a guy got him this nervous. Was it just his incredibly good looks? Or was it something else? Dean did have a very direct stare, that was for sure, but it wasn’t any more direct than his own. He looked down at his watch. Balthazar was late for practice. At this rate he would probably not be in for another thirty minutes or so. But he still needed to get ready. They had the studio booked for their private lessons and Crowley was a stickler for punctuality, even if his dancers weren’t. He looked to the closet where the box was, trying to decide whether or not to ask for help, before Dean intervened.

“Do you need some help?”

“That would be much appreciated.” Castiel answered, walking over to the closet stiffly. He clutched the key in his hand hard, trying not to panic like he was on the inside. 

As Cas fit the key in the lock, Dean spoke again. “So…uhm…you danced really great. On your first night, that is.”

“Thank you.” Castiel said, finally getting the lock open before pulling open the door. “And so do you. How long have you been dancing?”

“A few years.” Dean answered, following him into the closet where the box stood front and center. “I used to do weight training in school, so I just used what I learned there for my routines.”

“You are very strong.” Castiel offered, standing on the other side of the box. 

The boys pushed the box out of the closet. It was very large and pretty heavy. Even on its wheels it was a bit of a chore to push. But while Cas and Balthazar had some difficulty getting it out, Dean looked as though he could have done it all by himself. He really was strong. Not as strong as Sam, but he could probably press about two hundred if he wanted to. Again, Castiel found his eyes wandering around Dean’s body as he pulled the box to the middle of the studio. It was a fireworks display of muscles and tone from underneath his black tee shirt and it was all he could do to keep from “ooh-ing” and “ah-ing”. 

With the box now in the middle of the studio, Dean leaned on it, smiling through his heavy breath. “Wow! This thing weighs a ton! I wonder what’s in it.”

“I can’t tell you.” Castiel answered. “I was given explicit instructions to keep this a secret.”

Dean chuckled. “Right. Crowley’s fond of that.” He stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to say next. He ran his hand down his face, looking around and patting his pockets as if to make sure he had everything. “Well…I guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah…” Castiel said, watching him go. Then something dawned on him. Without thinking, he blurted it out. “Wait! Can I give you my phone number?”

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning around with an amused smile on his face. “What? I guess…by why do you wanna give me your number?”

Now he just felt silly. Why would he need Cas’ number? There were a few practical reasons for such a request…which he couldn’t think of. He stuttered, trying to find his words. “Uhm…well, in case one of us has an emergency. Or if, you just want to talk…”

Dean stood there for a moment, contemplating the request. Castiel worried that he would laugh in his face and turn away, never to speak to him again. But before that fear could really sink in, Dean walked over to him. Rooted to the spot, Castiel watched as Dean took a pen out of his pocket and took a hold of Castiel’s hand. He pulled it towards him and wrote the number down on the back of his hand in deep but not painful strokes. The whole time their skin was in contact, Castiel felt goosebumps and shivers run up and down his spine but he pushed back the physical quaking to not look like a dork. He didn’t want Dean to let go of his hand and when he did, Cas could feel the butterflies in his stomach slow their flapping.

Dean winked at him, smiling with that same bravado he had when he first met him. Castiel smiled back timidly, his lips quivering as he did. “Now you can call me.” Dean said. “Or text. Whichever you want.”

Nodding, Castiel watched him leave. So, to top off his rugged good looks and sultry voice, he was a romantic as well? Would wonders never cease with Dean Winchester? Once he was gone, Castiel still couldn’t get the grin off his face. It would be a wonder if his face didn’t freeze like that. As he turned to open up the box, his mind kept flashing him images of Dean: his profile, his back as it pulled the box, his smug little grin, his eyes, that firm ass of his, everything was pretty much perfect and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from wondering what that perfect body would feel like right up against his. He had a bit of a sampler with their hands touching like that, but he silently craved more.

As made to lift the lid of the box open, he was made aware of someone standing in the door of the studio. He turned to see Balthazar standing there in the same shirt and jeans he was wearing the day before and a cup of coffee in hand. A pair of sunglasses protected his eyes from the lights over head which seemed to still irritate him slightly. The V neck of this shirt was particularly low and showed off the lightly colored hair that grew sparsely on his pecks. That was a distinction that Bal made between he and other dancers; that he wasn’t afraid to look a bit more grungy. He sometimes went out with massive five o’clock shadow and the most worn out costume you could imagine, but the ladies really loved his ‘just got out of bed’ look and Crowley didn’t seem to mind. It was almost as if he could do no wrong.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He said, taking a swig of his drink. “Didn’t expect you this early.”

“I don’t understand why not.” Castiel said, confused. “We always practice at this time.”

Balthazar shrugged. “Really? I never pay attention to the time. I usually just show up when you do.” There was truth to that. Never once had Balthazar been in the studio before him and he never looked at clocks or wore a watch. But Castiel just thought it was a quirk, not a deliberate act. “Whatever.” Balthazar continued. “Change of plans, pigeon. Crowley wants us to work on something for tomorrow.” He grumbled as he climbed the stairs down to the studio. “…not like he could have bloody told me sooner…”

Castiel was confused. “Something special? What about my routine?” He motioned to the box which he and Dean had taken so long to pull out. 

“Not today.” Balthazar said, taking a swig of the drink in his hands. “This is a special request from a good friend of the boss’. Apparently it’s supposed to be a ‘couples night’.” He made bunny ears in the air to emphasize his distaste with the idea. “And you and me’ve got to come up with some sort of…duet…”

Castiel was baffled. He hadn’t ever shared the pole with anyone before, especially someone as talented as Balthazar. It was intimidating, to say the least. Castiel remembered the sensual dance between Michael and Lucifer that one night and wondered if they would be asked to do something so overtly sexual. Most likely they would. 

Balthazar seemed to notice his distress and chuckled, lowering his sunglasses. “Don’t worry, Pidge.” He said, lifting up Castiel’s chin a bit so their eyes met. “It won’t be that difficult. You can handle this. Trust me.”

There was that look again; the look that spoke more to a lover than a fellow dancer. It made Castiel blush despite himself. Sure, Balthazar was good looking, athletic, and extremely talented, but Castiel never saw him like his clients did. He supposed he understood, but the constant smell of whiskey on his breath and slight scent of unwashed clothes usually turned Castiel’s nose. No amount of Orbit gum and Febreeze could eradicate it and he was sure that no amount of contact would make him feel for Balthazar the way he felt for Dean. So why was he blushing? It must be those eyes.

All day and all through the night, they practiced, leaving Castiel so sore that he couldn’t even move his legs enough to pedal home. He bit the bullet and took the bus, causing more headaches than solutions. He only had about five hours of sleep before he had to get up and do it all over again. He wondered just who in their right mind would request something like this at such short notice? And why the hell would Crowley agree to it? Castiel pushed those thoughts from his head and focused on the task ahead of him. 

Tonight was the night of their impromptu performance. And, even though it was supposed to be all in good fun, Cas couldn’t help but feel as though this could change something and that life at Supernatural would get just a bit more complicated.


	6. Black Velvet

“Ladies and gentlemen; welcome to Supernatural. We welcome you to a world of darkness. We invite you to indulge your darkest fantasies. We implore you to seek refuge in the cool embrace of night. Although terrifying at first, you will find the night to be a fair and loving maiden indeed.”

The lights seemed to come up sooner than Castiel wanted them to. But he couldn’t let his nerves get the better of him now. He tried to think of this as any other night: he would perform, give the audience enough attention to get some extra tips, then exit stage left in less clothes than he entered with. But tonight, Balthazar had demanded that, instead of waiting backstage for the show to start, that Cas wait out on the main stage, leaning against the pole and looking as forlorn as he could. 

“That should give Crowley and his friend something to talk about.” Balthazar had said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

For ten whole minutes before the doors even opened, Castiel stood out on the stage all done up in his business suit and trench coat. Balthazar had put a bit of oil in his hair and on his face to make him look a little sweaty before the dance even started, but that was hardly necessary. Cas was so nervous that he could feel the perspiration soaking through his clothes even though he simply stood in the dim light. He could hear the crowd whispering to each other and he could feel their eyes on him as they sipped their drinks and sat down at their tables. He took a long, drawn out breath, looking up into the ceiling and trying to look as though he were wishing for a sign, only to exhale and look back down at the floor, defeated.

As the announcer made her speech, Castiel felt his heart begin to beat up in his throat again. He swallowed hard to get it back down before she was done speaking, only for it to come right back up when the audience lightly applauded. He took one last breath before the music started. He would have a whole twelve counts before he had to start and he used those beats to get his heart into a regular pace.

As the smooth, smoky guitar riff to Black Velvet played overhead, Cas looked off to the side. His face was the perfect picture of contrite sorrow. He wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, instead choosing to look down at their feet. At the second riff, he took a hold of the pole and leaned out towards the crowd. He did a slow rotation around the pole, running his hand through his ‘sweaty’ hair and rolling his head around. Balthazar had told him to act as though he was standing in the middle of the everglades in mid-August, but that wasn’t too far a stretch from how he felt. He slowly, and with some measure of difficulty, shrugged off his trench coat. He loosened his tie, pulling it down a good few inches before he swung around the pole on one leg, the crowd applauding and whistling as he did.

As the words started to combine with the music, Castiel performed a few spinning tricks, using his newly discovered upper arm strength to do some pretty impressive feats. His legs wrapped around the pole as he undid the first few buttons on his shirt as his face contorted into one of exhausted passion. “Like you just had the hottest, most amazing sex in your entire life” Balthazar had said. He could feel the effect he was having on the crowd and used their energy to propel his act forward. As the chorus came up, he knew that Balthazar would appear. The lights suddenly shifted from an orange-red color to flickering yellow, as though the air itself was on fire and the crowd began to cheer. Castiel knew that Balthazar had appeared and turned to face him just as the chorus began.

Black Velvet and the little boy smiles  
Black velvet and that old southern style  
A new religion that’ll bring ya’ to your knees  
Black velvet if you please

Balthazar looked the complete opposite of Cas. His face lit up with that mischievous grin that he had so often worn in practice. But seeing it out and about on the stage was like seeing something completely new…and slightly disturbing. Castiel almost turned away from it too soon. Balthazar walked up, throwing off a vest he was wearing and tossing it to the floor. He took the pole in one hand and the two of them swung at the same time, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Again, Cas felt the heat from those exposing eyes. And as Balthazar took a hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, he couldn’t help but look away.

He held the move for a few beats, before pushing Cas away so that he could take over the pole. Cas went to the floor, where he laid out flat with his arms spread on either side of him. He could just see Balthazar as he climbed up the pole with nothing but his arms, spinning around as he did. He went up so high that Castiel was always worried he would fall and break something, but he didn’t. Especially not tonight. As Castiel allowed himself to be showered with money, whipping his hair back and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, Balthazar lifted his legs out straight in mid air. The crowd loved it and, as he slid back down to earth, they showed their appreciation with even more money. 

Castiel got back up and Balthazar took his arm, pulling him close. Their bodies became flush, with Castiel’s butt against Balthazar’s hips. His hands went everywhere, and Castiel had to pretend that he couldn’t do anything to stop him. In all honesty, there really wasn’t anything he could do. Balthazar was so much stronger than him and he made it more than obvious with the force he used to keep Castiel so close. He could feel his hot breath in his ear, smell the overpowering scent of his musky cologne, and feel something hard and uninvited down south. That made Castiel blush violently. He was getting off from this? Cas didn’t know how to react, although his body continued with the motions, letting Balthazar stick a few fingers down the waist of his pants while the other pressed into his chest. 

But just as Castiel thought he could handle it, Balthazar did something that was not rehearsed. It was small, and almost went unnoticed by the crowd, but Castiel felt it in every fiber of his body. While Cas’ head rolled back, Balthazar leaned in and gave his ear lobe a quick but forceful nibble. He gasped. What else could he do? He couldn’t pull away or confront him now; that would ruin the show and, most likely, get him fired. But Balthazar just harassed him! Wasn’t there something about this in an employee handbook or something? Ellen would never put up with this at her place! But what distressed Castiel the most was the fact that he didn’t really mind it…in fact…it kind of turned him on. He bit his lower lip to keep any further noises from escaping his mouth. The next beat, Balthazar pulled away, taking both their shirts with him.

Castiel felt a shock of energy run through him as they circled each other again. Castiel wrapped his ankles around the pole and did three three-sixties, his eyes never once leaving Balthazar, who did his own set of three sixties after he was done. But on his third go around, his feet touched down, only to get more momentum. He took Castiel’s hand in his and swung him around with him. Castiel picked his feet up off the ground, his arm at ninety degrees as he was swung around. The crowd gasped and clapped happily at the trick, but when Balthazar lifted Cas up so he could take a hold of the pole above him, the crowd gasped at the feat of strength. Castiel spun high up on the pole, spiraling down before he took Balthazar’s hand to do the same for him. But instead, Balthazar used his momentum to get up with his legs in the upside down position that Castiel had done in his try out. Castiel slid all the way to the ground, melting his body all the way down as Balthazar slid down, stopping just short of his face. 

As the music died away and the crowd started applauding loudly, the two kept their positions for a good two minutes, their breath heavy in each others’ faces and their bodies tingling with that after-performance euphoria. Castiel slid up off the floor effortlessly, Balthazar following by a careful dismount. Castiel kept his face cast down as Balthazar followed him back to the back where everyone was standing there in awe.

“Holy crap, Bal!” Gabriel said. “Way to set the standard.”

“It wasn’t anything.” He answered in his cocky manner. “But it wasn’t all me. Castiel was gorgeous.”

But Cas was gone. He was headed straight to his dressing room. He went in and shut the door behind him. He didn’t want the others to see. Especially Dean. He had seen him staring from the back of the group and instantly made for his room. If he knew just how hot he was right now, there was no way he could take it back. He looked down at the growth under the cotton of his underwear and frantically tried to figure out what to do. The bathroom was all the way at the beginning of the hall and he didn’t want to go back out there and face the ridicule. He tried to think of things that would make it go down; dead puppies, Christmas at his grandmother’s, Driving Miss Daisy…anything to make this go away! But every time he did, his ear lobe would tingle and it would all well right back up.

As Castiel tried to figure out what to do, a knock at his door made him grab the nearest article of clothing and hold it in front of him. “Yes?” He all but yelled at the door. He wished he had told them to go away, but at the moment, he was too frantic to make a smart decision. To his horror, who should walk through the door, but Balthazar.

He had on the lowest low-cut jeans in all of creation, the button undone and the zipper barely hanging on for lack of support. He had a water bottle in one hand and a smirk on his face. “Good job out there, Cas.” He said lazily, as though it weren’t any big deal. “You did good.”

“Thank you.” He answered, looking away and pretending to put a few things away in his dresser. His ear tingled again but he pushed it out of his mind as he dusted glitter off the counter top.

“But you were a little stiff on some parts.” Balthazar said, walking up to him. “I think we should practice them real quick.”

“That’s alright.” Cas said, not looking at his reflection as it came closer. “We’ll practice it tomorrow.”

“Why wait?” Balthazar countered, his voice practically right up on him. “We should do it now, while it’s fresh in our minds.”

Before Castiel could say another word, Balthazar grabbed his hips and pulled him back into their Panini-press position. This time, Castiel audibly gasped at feeling an even harder length at his backside, poking at him from beneath denim. His shoulders went up and his whole body tensed up as he found himself in the compromising position. His eyes went to the mirror where he could clearly see Balthazar’s face smiling back darkly at him. Castiel’s face flushed again and he tried to pull away, but his partner’s hands kept him pinned in place.

“You’re too tense.” Balthazar said in a smoky voice. “You’ve got to relax.” His hands went to Castiel’s, making him drop his trench coat and reveal his prominent boner. Balthazar smiled at it. “I knew you were inspired.” He said teasingly.

“Wait…” was all Castiel could think to say. But wait for what? For Balthazar to stop? For Castiel to gain control of his body? For someone to walk in on them? His door was still open, so anyone would be able to see them. His mind went back to that scene he had witnessed between Lucifer and Michael and, suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a big deal in the first place. When his body didn’t react, Balthazar did. 

He moved his head and nibbled his ear lobe again, this time harder and longer. Without people there to hear or see, Castiel let a gasp escape before he bit his lower lip. Balthazar took this as a sign to continue, though, and sucked on the soft tissue a bit, rolling it between his lips softly and pulling it a bit hard. As he did this, Castiel lost track of his hands and didn’t notice them getting lower and lower down his body. He made a desperate little sound between a sigh and a whimper and felt his knees quake. Whether that was from the adrenaline leaving him or the way Balthazar sucked on him, he wasn’t sure. But it was starting to feel pretty damn amazing.

Balthazar’s hands stopped at a particularly sensitive area around by his hips, his fingertips inches away from the bulge that was beginning to show through his briefs. Just as Balthazar’s nibbles got more intense, he suddenly pulled away. Castiel nearly fell forwards, his knees were just that weak. He turned his head around to see the grin on his partner’s face which was just as aloof and nonchalant as usual.

“Well, that was fun.” He said as though it were no big deal. “But I’ve got another set on in fifteen. And trust me, it takes me longer than that to finish what I started.”

Castiel watched him agog as he turned to leave him there. “Call me if you’re interested in continuing that routine.” He said, waving at him as he left.

Once Balthazar was gone, Castiel slunk down into his chair. He sighed heavily, letting his body relax. But his cock wouldn’t. It throbbed painfully, begging for a touch or something. He looked around him before getting up and closing his door. As he took care of his problem, his mind ran at a million miles a minute. He was so confused that he almost couldn’t complete the task at hand. Dean. Balthazar. Everyone at this bar seemed completely out of their minds. Had he gotten in over his head? Was Supernatural just too crazy a place for him to work in? 

That night, he kept waking up with more than amorous thoughts about his fellow employees. Mostly, he just couldn’t get the image of Dean’s meadow green eyes out of his mind. Every time he went to finish in the bathroom, they flashed at him, winking in the carefree fashion that calmed him. He fell asleep and dreamt of glittering poles in the middle of wide open fields of dark green grass.


	7. Let's Give It A Whirl

After Balthazar’s little display of affection, Castiel worried that he would try it again. But the next day, as he apprehensively walked into the practice room, Balthazar acted as though nothing had occurred. As a matter of fact, he was almost aloof with him. Cas was both relieved and very confused at this turn of events. But on further interrogation from the other dancers it turned out that Gabriel had reinstated his and Bal’s relationship. He and Gabe went out for drinks after the show, Gabe drove them both to his apartment, and Balthazar showed up to work with the same outfit and still smelling of the show. It didn’t take a master detective to figure out what was going on.

With Balthazar’s attention no longer on him, Castiel could finally focus on his practices. He no longer felt so achy as he had before. He could easily push and pull the giant box out of the supply cabinet without much effort and he intensified his personal strength training from thirty to fifty pull up every morning and running for an hour instead of half an hour. One morning, he nearly gasped out loud as he saw his new muscles in the mirror as he walked out of the shower. Steam rolled off the new hills and valleys of his body like morning fog on a rocky landscape, making him smile a bit wider than before. Although he had always been fit, he had never been this ripped before. It was a nice little surprise and he treated himself to a cupcake that night for all his effort.

It was on a Tuesday night, when he had a rare early night home, that Castiel made yet another bold move on his part; he texted Dean. After receiving his number that day, Cas had immediately saved it in his phone for a later date. Since he hadn’t had a chance to see him since then he figured that now would be a good time to do so. Without thinking too much about it, which was most uncharacteristic of him, he sent Dean a short, simple message. 

Hey. What are you up to?

It occurred to Cas that maybe Dean didn’t know who it was that was texting him. In a bit of a panic, he sent a second text.

It’s Castiel.

As he set his phone down on the arm of the couch beside him, he started to rethink his strategy. What if Dean didn’t want to talk to him? What if the whole reason he hadn’t seen him at work was because he was trying to avoid him? Did he think that he and Balthazar were a thing? But everyone knew about Bal and Gabe’s newly reinstated relationship. As soon as his heart began to race, his phone chimed in with a response. He almost dropped his phone in his haste to see the message. It was from Dean.

Long time no see. I’m just having a drink. You?

Cas sighed audibly, smiling a bit at himself for being so silly. He replied quickly.

Nothing. Relaxing at home. Sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while.

It’s alright. I’ve been busy too. Crowley had me doing three sets a night last week.

I know. Halloween is coming up and I know he likes to be a showman.

This conversation continued for a while as they both talked about their sets and their pains. Castiel couldn’t stop grinning. He didn’t know why he had waited so long to text Dean. He was a nice guy and talking to him was easy. He felt like he could tell him anything he wanted. More importantly, he wanted to tell him everything…

An hour later, they were still texting. The next text took Cas a little by surprise.

Hey you wanna meet up somewhere? My thumbs are getting tired from all this texting.

Castiel’s heart jumped. Meeting Dean? Outside of work? That sounded wonderful! Almost too good to be true. He swallowed hard and replied. But then he read it over and deleted it before rewriting it and sending it.

Sure! Where do you want to meet up?

The wait was excruciating. He felt his stomach do turns and flips as he waited for Dean to reply. What if he lost his signal? Maybe he didn’t get it. Did the message not go? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? What if he never wanted to text him ever again? But just as he was in the middle of his mini panic attack, his phone chimed in a little louder than he was ready for. He jumped before looking over Dean’s reply.

How about the pizza place down the street from the club? I hear they have a wicked baked ziti.

Castiel jumped up off his seat so fast that his head spun. Pizza? With Dean? How could that get any better? He replied so fast that he added a few extra letters, sending it before he could correct it.

Greeat! Ii’ll be therre in about twentyy minuutess.

It actually took him only ten minutes to get there but between trying to find his wallet and picking out a decent outfit to wear, Cas gave himself plenty of time to calm down. He even brushed his teeth twice he was so excited. With the thick, heady flavor of mint still clinging to his back teeth, he peddled his way over to the pizza place. Dean said he was farther away than he and it would take him a bit to get there, so Cas took the opportunity to get them a seat. As he sat there waiting for Dean he looked himself over again, sipping on his soda to try and calm his overactive nerves.

Maybe I shouldn’t have worn the red hoodie. Do these pants look okay? I know it’s just for pizza but do I look homeless? What if he’s dressed nicer than me? What if I overdressed? Will he think I’m being weird?

While this inner dialog was going on, he didn’t see the waitress bring Dean over until he was right next to him. He looked up to see the freckled face of Dean smiling down at him. He had forgotten just how many freckles he had until he saw him up close like this. And those eyes…he couldn’t recall the last time he met someone with eyes so deep green before. As Dean scooted his bowed legs into the booth, he ordered a cold beer before turning to Cas.

“Long time no see.” He said in that deep, charming voice of his that, Cas was sure, was fit for singing country music.

“Yeah.” He answered, trying not to sound awkward and smiling. “It has been.”

Dean smiled back and looked around at the restaurant. He took in a deep breath through his nose and made a satisfied noise. “Damn, I didn’t know how hungry I was until I walked in here.” He looked back at Castiel and cocked his head to the side. “You hungry?”

Not really, he thought as his stomach still did flips and spins. But he didn’t want to be rude. He nodded. “Yeah. I could eat a horse.”

They ordered a medium three meat pizza and Cas switched his soda out for a beer before they resumed their conversation. Dean began, as though he could sense the awkwardness coming off of Cas.

“So…guess you can’t tell me what it is you’re planning.” He said, taking a swig of his beer. “For the Halloween show, that is.”

Cas shook his head, chuckling. “Sorry. If I did I would have to kill you.” He joked. “Crowley doesn’t want anyone besides me and Balthazar to know. It’s been giving Ash a headache.” The lighting designer had confronted Crowley about his secret performances several times claiming that ‘If I don’t know what they’re doin’ then I can’t point the lights, now can I?’

Dean chuckled. “That sounds about right. But Ash will find out soon, I bet. Balthazar will probably tell him at least two days before.”

“I hope so.” Cas said, looking down at the table. “Not going to lie; I’m a little nervous about it. I’ve never done this particular act before. I just hope I don’t screw up too badly.”

“You? Screw up?” Dean asked incredulously. “I’ve seen you dance, Cas. You’re really talented. Crowley wouldn’t hire you if he didn’t see potential in you.”

Castiel smiled up at Dean. “Thank you.” He was feeling better already. And with the butterflies now disappearing he started to feel his appetite return. “So what about you? Doing anything special for the Halloween show?”

Dean shrugged. “Me and Sammy usually do our devil/angel bit on All Hallow’s Eve. But this year I have Ash working on a special pair of wings for me.” He gave Cas a bit of a heavy smile. “They’re kind of inspired by you, actually.”

Cas felt his face flush a little. He chuckled, waving it off as though it were nothing. “Well, I’m glad I could serve as a bit of inspiration for you.”

Dean’s smile was so disarming. It was like a smile one would see on one of those old movies, where the main actor was trying to win over the actress. I was like James Dean, Clark Gable, and Errol Flynn wrapped up in a warm, freckly package. Castiel couldn’t help but smile back. And as the waitress set their pizza down in between them, Castiel felt a warmth radiate over him that he knew wasn’t because of the steam rising up from their food. As they ate and talked about themselves, Castiel felt as though he was forming something with Dean that he had never formed with anyone else; a true friendship.

Dean talked about he and Sammy; how their dad had bounced around from job to job so often that the boys really didn’t have a home. Years of motel rooms and open road went by before they met Bobby, the security guard, who opened his home and his hearts to the Winchester clan. When Dean was about to graduate high school, their dad suffered a massive heart attack and died. It was sudden and the boys almost went to the wayside had it not been for Bobby. That was how they got their jobs. And it was thanks to him that Sam was working his way towards college.

“He wanted to go to Stanford.” Dean said. “But money being the way it is, we couldn’t afford it. So he’s getting his criminal justice degree through community college.” He chuckled. “I know it sounds like a cliché; a stripper paying for college, but it’s Sammy.”

Cas nodded. “That sounds about right. Sam’s a smart guy. I bet he’d make a great lawyer.” He finished off his third beer, shrugging. “I’d hire him.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know; he can be a bit feather brained if he wants to.” He took another bite of pizza, chewing it slowly. “So what about you? What tale of woe do you have?”

Cas shrugged. He didn’t really like talking about his family. There wasn’t much to tell. “No, no tale of woe. Just a conservative family who wanted their son to be a preacher. Nothing more.”

Dean whistled softly. “Tough break. But that would make for an interesting sermon.” He teased, twirling his finger around the rim of his mug. “Watching you work the pole in one of those spangley preacher get ups. Halleluiah.”

The way Dean said that last word was a bit more than just playfulness on his part. Cas blushed again, hiding his face from behind his beer. “So…” He said, trying to change the subject. “What else about you should I know? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. No girlfriend. And no boyfriend either. Just me and Sammy.” He looked down at his watch and shrugged. “Who should still be at that party I think…gonna be another lonely night.”

Cas looked down at his own watch. A quarter till one. “We had better get out of here soon.” He said, almost to himself. “This place probably doesn’t stay open that late on a weekday.”

Dean, finishing off his beer, gave Castiel a cocked eyebrow. It was like he took his statement as something else. “Do you need a ride home? I brought my car.”

Castiel would usually decline. After all, he brought his bike. But he had had at least one more beer than he should have and was starting to feel the effects of it almost immediately. “I guess…if you don’t mind.”

Dean pulled out his wallet and laid a couple of bills on the table for a tip. “I offered, didn’t I?” He asked with a tilted eyebrow. Cas blushed again, noting the large tip that Dean left. So he was generous as well? Would wonders truly never cease?

Castiel had seen Dean’s Impala a few times, but never up close. Balthazar had warned him that the car was his pride and joy and to go near it without Dean’ permission was to court death. This was the car that he and Sam and their dad had traveled across the country in. It was Dean’s first home. Naturally he would be protective of it. Up close it was much bigger than Castiel figured it was. He was able to easily fit his bike into the backseat without any problems. Even though the doors squeaked as they were opened and the engine made a rattling noise when Dean turned it over, it ran like silk. The car was like Dean; well worn but true to its nature. Big, tough, but sleek and elegant in design. If ever a car matched its owner it was Dean and his Impala.

Castiel showed Dean the way to his apartment by pointing to the roads and where to turn. Once there, Dean found a parking spot suitable and helped Cas get his bike out of the backseat. As they stood on the front porch waiting for Cas to unlock the door, Dean smirked. “I had a good time tonight.”

Cas looked up from the lock, smiling back as best as he could after being caught off guard by Dean’s smile. “Yeah…I did too.”

“Maybe we should make it a regular thing?” Dean asked, cocking his head to the side a bit again.

“Yeah!” Cas said eagerly. “I would like that.” 

The smile that Dean gave him was so charming that Cas had to look away again and busied himself with opening the door. Once it was unlocked, he took his bike and parked it inside the hallway where he left it chained to a support beam. He turned back to Dean, who was inside the door. Cas fumbled with his keys a little, finding his apartment key in the mix. His stomach started doing flips again as he and Dean stood in the hall for a moment in silence. Now what? Cas wasn’t all that sure what to say. Maybe I should invite him up. Is that too bold? How else am I gonna know? He asked himself, clearing his throat. 

“So…uhm…” Cas finally said, looking up at Dean’s field green eyes. “Do you…wanna come up for some coffee or something?”

Dean smiled back, taking a step towards Cas. “I don’t think I’m thirsty.” He said, his hands in his pockets. “But I’d like to come up…if that’s okay with you.”

Cas blushed but this time he couldn’t hide it. He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. Okay, let’s…uhm….go up!” He pointed up and turned to lead Dean to his apartment. Holy shit, he thought, Dean is coming with me. Dean is gonna be in my apartment. What do I do? What do I say? Before he had much time to think it over, they were already at his apartment door. In his state, Castiel had lost his key again. As he shuffled through his other keys to find it, he tried not to seem so nervous.

“Sorry about the place.” He said. “I haven’t had a chance to clean…” He looked back at Dean and noticed that he was closer to him than before. He still had that smile on his face like he knew something that Cas didn’t. He stood up straight, looking him right in the eye. Dean took another step closer, closing the gap between them.

Cas wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, Dean’s lips found their way to his. It was so sudden that Cas almost jumped with surprise. But he didn’t move away. Instead, he closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him.

His lips were big and warm. His scent was earthy. His tongue was like melting butter. Dean’s kiss was everything he ever thought it would be and then some. As he found himself kissing Dean back, he forgot about what it was they were doing before this. All that mattered was Dean’s lips on his and his body inches away from him. Unconsciously, Cas’ hands found their way up to Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer to him. Dean’s hands slipped out of his pockets and looped around Cas’ waist as their lips moved against each other. Finally, after a moment, Dean pulled away gently, his arms still around Cas and his smile returned.

“Sorry.” He said in a whisper. “I guess I couldn’t wait until we got inside.”

Castiel chuckled. “Yeah…I guess not.” He moved his hands up to Dean’s neck, his fingertips finding his hair line gently. “And…what if I did get you inside? What would you do then?”

Dean’s smile shifted, even though he didn’t drop it. It became darker, a bit more needy and full of lust. He placed another little peck on Cas’ lips, pulling away reluctantly. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Dean was an excellent lover. He was gentle, affectionate and their eyes never left each other as they made love. Cas couldn’t even remember the last time he had had sex with his eyes on anything besides the mattress and, God, was it good. And Castiel found another parallel between Dean and his car; bigger than he expected… He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning so hard. Another added bonus of Castiel’s new body was that he found his endurance was much improved. He was able to keep up with Dean’s pace, which although slow and caring, seemed to go on forever. It burned in the best possible way that it could. And when the fire was finally out, they fell asleep in each others’ arms, spent and satisfied.

Before he fell asleep, with his head resting on Dean’s chest and Dean’s arms securely around him, Castiel did a quick, silent prayer. The first he had done in a very, very long time. 

Please, God. Please, let me keep him.


	8. It's All Business

Crowley’s office phone rang once, twice, three times. “I have to get that.” His receptionist said in a soft, amused voice.

“Let it go to voicemail.” Crowley said as he pulled her close, his hands on her hips and his lips at her neck. As he nibbled and sucked on her sweet skin, she squirmed with delight.

“But…what if it’s one of your clients?” She asked, giggling as his teeth found a ticklish spot on her neck.

“Let it ring…” He said again, one of his hands going up and cupping her breast from over its lacy black bra. She giggled again, but a bit more willingly. She looked to the phone again as it rang.

“What if it’s Mr. Roman?” She asked coyly.

Sighing with defeat, Crowley nodded. “Alright. Answer the bloody thing, then.”

But as she answered it, Crowley continued to kiss her on the back of the neck, the shoulders, and along her spine, making her giggle and squirm more. “Mr. Crow…OOoowley’s office!” She said as he continued to feel her up. She tried to bat his hand away playfully but he continued. But as the person on the other end spoke, she focused more on the conversation. She nodded as Crowley began to sneak his hand up her thigh, pushing her skirt up as he did. 

She sighed, turned around and handed him the phone. “It’s Mr. Roman for you.” She said in a very annoyed, pouting tone.

Crowley rolled his eyes, taking the phone from her. She winked at him and whispered something about slipping into something more comfortable before leaving for his apartment in the other room. Crowley put the phone to his ear, loosening his tie. “Dick! So good to hear from you. How’s the Governor’s Office treating you?”

Dick Roman chuckled from his end. “Not as good as your receptionist is treating you. I thought you had an older woman manning the desk.”

As Crowley untied his shoes, he shrugged. “She was nice, but the new girl is fitting in quite nicely.” He looked over to see her slinky silhouette in his room unzipping her skirt and shrugging out of her clothes. He licked his lips a little before returning to the phone. “I hope this isn’t anything too pressing. I was in the middle of a business transaction.”

Dick chuckled again, this time with a slight hint of derision. “Never mix business with pleasure, Crowley. It makes a pretty volatile cocktail.”

“Those are always the best kinds.” Crowley quipped, shrugging his jacket off and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. “But I take it you didn’t call me to order drinks.”

“Of course not. I was wondering if you could set up a bit of a private performance for me.”

Crowley paused. He knew what Dick meant by ‘private’. It usually entailed something more than just a lap dance. His smirk returned though, thinking of the price of such a party. “Of course. Anything for you, Dick. Who did you have in mind?”

“Do you remember the last time I was at Supernatural?” He asked as though reminiscing over the weather. “That newcomer that we saw…the one with the angel wings.”

“Castiel?” Crowley asked, raising and eyebrow. “Interesting. I didn’t think you would be into his type.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, his tone friendly and casual. “After all, didn’t I say that I could…how did I say it…Oh yes! Eat him up…”

Crowley recognized the tone in his voice. Even though Dick was a politician the club owner could read his tone like a book. He chuckled darkly. “What is it about you right wing, conservative types…always doing things you really shouldn’t be doing…”

“I’ll expect you to be discreet about our transactions, Crowley.” Dick’s voice took on a much darker, authoritative tone as Crowley called him out. “A man in my position can’t be seen doing anything too untoward. Otherwise, there might be consequences for more than just my reputation.”

Crowley silently swallowed. He didn’t need to read too deep into this to know the subtext of this particular conversation. He quickly regained his composure and smiled. “When can I expect you?”

“Tomorrow night. Eleven thirty sharp.” Dick’s voice returned to his more friendly tone as he instructed his business partner. “And…see to it that he wears his wings, if you could.” Without waiting for a reply, Dick hung up, leaving Crowley standing there with his mouth slightly open. 

Crowley looked at the receiver before putting it down, half expecting it to burst into flames or ooze some sort of strange liquid after such a twisted transaction. Poor Cas…oh well. He’ll have to learn to toughen up if he was going to be working for him. Besides, who could argue with the amount of money that Dick Roman would, no doubt, shower him with for the private performance. He leaned over his desk and wrote down a quick memo. 

Call Cas. Dick. 11:30.

He then sauntered into his apartment where his receptionist was waiting for him in nothing but her underwear. Tonight he would get his kicks. Tomorrow, Dick would get his.

****

Castiel’s alarm usually woke him up at about twelve thirty in the afternoon. He didn’t like sleeping any later than that plus it gave him plenty of time to work out and do any errands that needed doing before he had to go to the club. But with what happened between he and Dean the night before, he had forgot to set his alarm. When he woke up, it was 2:30. And Cas couldn’t give a shit.

But when he rolled over to put his arms around Dean, he was met with an empty bed and a crumpled up pillow. He shot up as quick as he could, looking at the disheveled bed that still smelled of sex and Dean’s earthy smell. Was he just stood up? Did Dean just ‘hit it and quit it’ as they say? Then what was all that about having another night like they had at the pizza place? But before he could drive himself deeper into depression, his hand found a piece of paper that had fallen into the sheets. He unfolded it, flipped on his lamp and read the note with eager eyes.

Cas,  
Sorry I didn’t get to say Good Morning. I had some things I needed to do before I got to the club tonight. I had an amazing time. I made you some pancakes and bacon. They’re in the microwave. I can’t wait until we get to have another night like this. Miss you already.  
Dean

Cas’ smile reached every corner of his face. He couldn’t been happier if he had sprouted wings and started zipping around the room. He pressed the note to his chest, laying on his pillow for the longest time, going over their activities in his head until his face blushed violently. He finally got out of bed and headed for the shower, reluctant to wash the smell of Dean off his body even though he was sure no one else would appreciate it as much as he did. 

'The pancakes were amazing. As he ate, he texted Dean. I got your message. That was such a nice surprise! ;)'

The reply was almost instantaneous and it made Cas chuckle. Oh good! I was worried that you didn’t see it! I hope the pancakes didn’t get too cold.

'No. I heated them back up. Their delicious. We’ll have to have breakfast together next time.'

'Definitely! I would love to watch you eat what I cook. <3'

Castiel felt like he was in high school again, handing notes back and forth in the back of the class room and hiding his blush behind his Physics book. As he and Dean continued to text, he suddenly got a phone call. He half expected it to be Dean, but it was his work number. He sent Dean a quick text before answering.

“Hello? This is Castiel.”

“Cas, darling.” Crowley said, sounding extremely pleased with himself. “So good to hear your voice this early in the afternoon. Did you have a good night?”

Cas sat up straight in his seat. Why would his boss be calling him out of the blue like this? Was he in trouble? Did he think that he and Dean shouldn’t be going out? He stammered a bit before speaking. “Oh! Uhm…Mr. Crowley! It’s uhm…is everything alright?”

Crowley chuckled deeply. “Oh no, everything is fine. And it’s just Crowley. Mr. Crowley is my father.” He said smoothly. “I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“Yes? Do you need me to come in early?” That was usually the only reason that anyone called him from work. Of course, it was usually Balthazar or Gabriel who did that, but he supposed that Crowley would do the same thing. It was his bar, after all.

“Oh no, not at all.” Crowley said apologetically. “There has been a slight change in the schedule though and I just wanted to call and tell you personally. You won’t be performing until 11:30 tonight.”

That was a whole two hours later than he was slated to be on tonight. He guessed that wasn’t a bad thing. Now he wouldn’t be in such a rush. “Oh…okay. No problem.”

“Also; you’ll be doing a private performance.” Crowley added. “That means just you and the client. No one else.” He paused before continuing. “That is…alright with you, isn’t it?”

Sam did private performances. So did Lucifer and Michael. But they were much more personable than he. Castiel didn’t usually do well when talking to others. and the way that the other dancers talked just sounded more natural. Castiel could already feel himself panic with the sheer thought of talking one-on-one with a client like that. But he couldn’t let Crowley hear that. Swallowing hard, he nodded his head. “Yeah! Sure; I don’t mind.”

“There’s a lad.” Crowley said proudly. “Private performances pay at least triple that of regular ones. So I only put on about one every two weeks. And the client list for them is extremely high end. I need you to be very attentive. Also secretive. No one is allowed to know who your client is. It’s just between you, and me, and the client. Do you understand?”

Cas nodded again, not feeling any more confident about this idea. “Of course! I understand.” He thought for a moment before speaking. “Am…I allowed to know who it is?”

Crowley chuckled. “You’ll find out tonight. At 11:30. Make sure to be on time, dear. My clients don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes. I understand.” Castiel said again, nodding vigorously.

Crowley made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Good.” He was about to hang up when he added something with a bit of a realization.

“Oh, and Castiel; you’re doing a wonderful job. Don’t disappoint me.”

As he hung up, Cas looked down at his phone. What just happened? A private performance? Tonight? His head started spinning with all the information he was trying to rifle through. But it paid well and he only had to do it this one time. He figured that he could be personable for one night only. Especially if the price was right. How hard could it be? Sighing, he put his plates in the dish washer and looked at his phone. Dean had texted him during his talk with Crowley. He smiled.

'You know I love you, right?'

Castiel suddenly had a flood of pride. He had an amazing job, steady cash, and a new amazing man in his life. At this point, a little hitch in the road wasn’t going to slow him down any. He quickly replied, kissing his phone’s screen as he did.

'I know. I love you too. <3'


	9. All The Wrong Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Cas' first private performance! And Castiel is nothing but a big ball of nerves. Can you blame him? And the performance itself might not put him at ease about it either.

“A private performance?” 

Castiel sat in his dressing room with Dean hovering over him, a stick of black coal eyeliner in his hand. As he helped Castiel with the fine line of definition under his eyes, Castiel had told him about his conversation with Crowley. It was still weighing on his mind and the closer it got to 11:30, the more worried he became.

“Yeah. He just said one of his clients requested me.” He blinked a few times to keep his eyes from tearing up and smudging Dean’s hard work. “I don’t know why; I haven’t been here that long…”

“That’s good though!” Dean said enthusiastically. “That means you’re leaving a good impression on the clients. And on Crowley too. I don’t think I’ve seen him pay so much attention to a dancer in years.”

Castiel was about to interject that he hadn’t actually met Crowley yet when Dean lifted his head back to his so he could finish his makeup. Castiel looked right into Dean’s eyes as he lightly traced the tip of the pencil along the rim of his eyelid, being very gentle and incredibly sexy with his brows all furrowed and his lips parted just slightly. It was all he could do not to jump up and kiss him even with the threat of having his eye stabbed by a pencil.

“How do you do that?” Cas asked after a moment of silence.

“Do what?” Dean asked, still concentrating on his work.

“Look so damn sexy.” Castiel answered simply, not using any unusual inflection, just stating the obvious.

Dean stopped what he was doing and really looked into Castiel’s eyes. He smiled fondly at him, making his beautiful green eyes sparkle, before he answered. “The same way you sounded sexy when you said that.” He leaned down again, not to put on more eyeliner, but to give him a kiss.

When Dean Winchester kissed you it wasn’t just an empty gesture or a way to get you out of your pants. It was warm and sincere. Castiel felt his love through their tender caress and it made him smile. He reached his hand up to the side of Dean’s head and ran his fingers through his hair, reaching his body up for more like a flower budding out of the cold earth for the warm rays of the sun. They separated reluctantly, letting their lips slowly pull away from each other noisily. They both smiled at each other, simmering in the shared emotion.

“Wow.” Dean said softly. “That really makes your eyes pop.”

“In the good way, I hope.” Castiel said. “I hope you didn’t make me look like a pirate.”

Dean laughed, kneeling down in front of Castiel so he could wrap his arms around his middle. “You kinda do look like Hook from Once Upon A Time…permission to come aboard, Captain?” He gave him his sappiest look to try and entice him.

Castiel scoffed/chuckled when Dean said that last bit. “Good God, don’t ever say that again. It almost ruined the moment.” He looped his own arms around Dean’s neck, his legs on either side of Dean’s smoking hot body as he knelt in front of him. “Now you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

“Fair deal.” Dean said, leaning forward and kissing his chin. “How about dinner? I’ll come over with some steaks and beers…put on a little Billie Holiday…light some candles. How does that sound?”

Castiel chuckled, squirming a little under the kissing he was getting. “Okay. But Wine, not beer. Red. And no candles. I don’t want wax to drip on my new table.”

Dean sighed good naturedly before nodding. “You’re no fun. But alright. No candles.” He continued to kiss him, going from his chin to his neck, peppering his skin with tiny kisses and just very barely sucking on his pulse. It made Cas’ back arch slightly up.

“I can’t have marks…” He said softly to Dean, but not making a move to push him away.

“I won’t…” Dean answered gruffly into his neck. “I just love the way you taste…” He then ran his tongue along his skin to demonstrate just how much he loved it. It made Castiel shiver visibly. He was just about to suggest that they lock the door so Dean could taste the rest of him when Gabriel pulled it open.

“Dean! Get off your boyfriend. You’re on in five.” He then left with the door hanging open so the couple had no privacy.

Dean sighed heavily, letting his head drop down. “I’m sorry.” He said to Cas as he got up. “But maybe after tonight we can finish?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah. Tell Billie that sounds like a date.” He teased. He had never teased a partner of his before. It felt good to do it and it made Dean chuckle back. They kissed each other again before Gabriel shouted at them from the corridor again.

“Winchester! You can bend him over the dressing table after hours! Let’s move!”

“Don’t forget what I taught you.” Dean said as he rushed out of the door. “Eye contact!” He then turned and left, leaving Castiel to finish his prep. 

Castiel could not have been more elated. This thing with he and Dean was so right and so amazing that he was on a cloud the entire time he pulled himself together the rest of the way. The client had been very specific for tonight. They didn’t want a strip tease; just a dance. So Cas would go to the private area shirtless with a pair of glossy black pants, bare footed, and his angel wings. These ones didn’t move up and down but they were nice and almost looked like they were made out of the real deal raven feathers. They went well with Castiel’s whole look which was disheveled in just the right way. But as the clock hit 11:15, the butterflies returned. 

He didn’t know what to expect. Dancing for a crowd was one thing but for one person…it was terrifying. In a crowd, all the sounds mingled together into one single blast of energy. It was comforting not to see them all individually. But with one person it was…well, weird. Castiel had only ever danced for a single person once and that was his audition with Ellen. This would be far removed from that; he had to seduce the client, not impress them. He had to gain the attention of a single set of eyes in a way that Castiel just wasn’t used to. He began to second-guess himself all over again.

He walked down the hall toward the private performance area. It was a single velvet covered door that almost disappeared into the wall. If you weren’t looking for it you wouldn’t know it was there. Honestly, Cas hadn’t noticed it until the other day. He had five minutes to gather himself, to regain his composure and to get his mind back into the right place. Eye contact, he told himself. Eye contact. Keep eye contact with them for as long as you can. Make it personal. That’s what they paid for, right? He could only imagine the hundreds (or even thousands) of dollars someone had to pay for a private viewing at Supernatural. At least he knew the song. Eye by The Smashing Pumpkins. This would be fine, he said.

11:32. Shit! He’d waited too long. Crowley had said this guy was a stickler for punctuality. Without another thought, he opened the door and went in. At first he was blind. There wasn’t a single light in the whole room. But an amber table light appeared in front of him below the mini-stage that he stood on. He could just make out a long, limber silhouette sitting with one leg over the other and a glass in one hand. “You’re late.” A cheery but deep voice said. It sounded a bit like a newscaster’s voice. 

So; his client was a man. Interesting.

“Apologies.” Castiel said before he could stop himself. Slowly, purple stage lights illuminated around him. There was barely any room to really move on this tiny stage. But Castiel didn’t need an abundance of it. All he needed was the pole, which stood about five feet from the stranger and glowed ominously. But even though the room was dark and the figure shrouded by the lack of light, he could feel eyes on him, watching him intently. He froze despite himself, his shoulders square and his brows furrowed. Slowly, the man chuckled.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing?” It wasn’t an impatient voice. He almost sounded amused as though Castiel standing there was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day. It was condescending and snarky and Cas wasn’t going to let him keep that attitude up. He would prove it to him. As if on cue, the music started up.

The music in here wasn’t booming like out on the main stage but it was loud enough for Castiel to focus only on it as he went through his moves. He advanced to the pole, running one hand down it as though it was something that he really shouldn’t be touching. Dean was the one who suggested the ‘sinning school boy’ look that Castiel had used that got a real reaction from the crowd. As he swung with his ankle around the pole, he ran his hands from his neck down his front, as though he was almost getting off on this bad behavior. Tonight was not about strength or endurance, tonight was about performing and that’s what Castiel did.

With each thrust of his hip, with each twirl around the pole, with each motion he flicked his eyes up to the shadowed figure. He was guessing where his eyes were but it was a good enough guess seeing as he felt them crawling all over him. As he threw his hands up over his head, latching his hands around the shining pole, writhing and moving as though he were tied to it, the eyes pieced even more. It was unsettling and Castiel wasn’t very sure how much he wanted that. He heard the chair shift a bit as its occupant got comfortable and Castiel got even more uncomfortable. But he transferred that feeling into painful ecstasy as he came to the middle of the show.

At one point, he had his back to the client. He did a trick he was very well known for and was the only thing he was allowed to do over and over again; he flexed his shoulders in such a way that made even these stiff wings look like they were alive. With every struggling, back arching breath he took, the wings seemed to move of their own accord. It usually got a gasp or a whoop out of the crowd. But with just that one set of eyes on him, he could hear only one single sound drift towards him over the heavy bass. It was a low, guttural grunt almost undetectable but highly suggestive. And it was very, very, very creepy. It made Castiel shiver. But he played it off as best as he could, swinging back around on one hand as he ran his other through his hair, messing it up even more.

Castiel was down on his knees at the pole, running his hands up and down it and looking up as though he was praying to some all mighty creator in the sky, whipping his head back and moving up and down to the beat of the music. He spun around with his back to the pole, pulling himself up with his hands above his head, his head to the side and his legs looking useless beneath him. He looked much more tired than he actually was. In all honesty, Cas was more anxious than tired. He was anxious to have this over with. And as the music died down he could feel his heart beat slowing down to normal.

When the music died away, Castiel ended up leaning against the pole and heaving for breath as though he had just had very vigorous sex. He ran his hand through his hair again just for added effect. As he stood there with his back to the client he heard something; a small zipping noise…like…someone zipping up their pants…wait! Had he…actually…jerked off to that?

Before Castiel could ask, the man stood and ran his hand down his front, straightening his suit and tie. “What a wonderful performance.” He said easily, as though he hadn’t just did what Castiel had dreaded. He pulled something out of his pocket and set it on the table, setting his glass on top of it. “Here is your tip.” He said before walking away, his shoes making a light tapping noise against the floor. Before he got to the door, he stopped and turned his head. “I’ll be seeing you again, angel.” He then exited, leaving Castiel in the dark, forbidding room with the awkward silence.

Mother of God. He didn’t...he really didn’t, did he? I mean, Crowley’s got rules about this club! This wasn’t ‘one of those places’ that you could just whip it out on a whim! Sure, Supernatural was a…different place, but it wasn’t like that! Yeah, he had seen many women blush intensely and even a few of them look at him and the others as though they wanted nothing else but to take them right there on the stage. But this was beyond crazy. It was actually kinda sick.

As Castiel descended the stage to retrieve his tip, he gave the chair a wide berth, not wanting anything to do with it now. He lifted the glass and took up a fairly healthy stack of bills. When he saw the numbers on them at first he thought the light was playing tricks on him. He brought them up to his face and counted. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten hundreds. Ten…a thousand! Holy shit! A thousand dollars! For one performance! A thousand dollars! In cash! Never had the face of Ulysses S. Grant looked so wonderful! A thousand dollars in cash for one slinky dance on the pole! He could get used to this!

But as that statement crossed his mind, he thought back to that awful, horrible sound he had caught in the darkness. That grunt of pleasure and sinful thoughts that made Cas’ skin crawl. Was a thousand dollars really worth that? And he said he’d ‘see him again’. Would he have to go through that again? He wasn’t sure that he could? He couldn’t answer that right now. Right now, he had to get out of there. The air was too thick and he started to feel claustrophobic. He ran out through the way he came in and ended up back in the hallway clutching his massive tip to his chest.

The lights blinded him and it took him a minute to figure out that the noise was the patrons cheering on the last of the performances out in the main stage. With the sounds of up-beat music and life floating back to him, he brought himself back down to earth. That man was probably on a waiting list months in advance. If he was going to see him again it wouldn’t be for a while; maybe not even until after Halloween! He wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Besides; five hundred dollars cash meant that he could treat Dean this time, not the other way around! This was good. It was all good. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. 

He turned down the hallway to his dressing room, ready to leave behind that night and look forward to he and Dean’s dinner date. It would just be a bad memory, remembered only by the fat stack in his hand and forgotten just as easily as the makeup that he wiped off his face. And the cash would soon be gone; spent on new clothes and albums and dinner for he and Dean. It would just be a single blip in his radar of ‘things that happened at work’ and would become a funny story that he told people to get a gross chuckle out of them all. That’s what Castiel wanted it to be. He hoped that it would stay that way…


	10. Hush Little Baby Don't You Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his unnerving first private performance, Castiel is having second thoughts. Was it even a good idea to start this and can he opt out if he wants? And, to top it all off, his relationship with Dean is just beginning to blossom. How's a guy supposed to deal?

As promised, Dean came over with food and drink and sultry music. He cooked for them and they enjoyed each other’s’ company and drank nearly the whole bottle. They started off giggly, snuggled up on the couch. And then Dean kissed Castiel’s forehead and Castiel kissed him back and then a kissing war started. Before long, Dean had him pinned to the couch and was alternately kissing and teasing him about how he talked when he was tipsy. Soon, the teasing got hot and heavy and as the music ended, the two ended up in Castiel’s bed.

Dean lay on top of Castiel, pulling his clothes off as he watched helplessly from the mattress. Cas reached up and ran his hands along Dean’s bare chest. He let his fingers feel every muscles and watched to see the reaction. It was sexy the way they would curl up when he took a deep breath in. Everything about Dean was sexy. It was beyond comprehension. As Dean continued to strip them both, Cas pulled his face to his for another sloppy kiss. They were both desperate and drunk and that made things interesting.

“That wine wasn’t even that good.” Dean said under his breath as their bodies ground against each other. “But I guess I got my $20 worth out of it…”

“Think Imma cheap date?” Castiel teased, giggling lowly as Dean’s body pressed against his so very sweetly. “Next time, get the good stuff. Or you’re not getting any…”

“Didn’t stop you this time.” Dean said lovingly as their hips rubbed against one another. Castiel moaned as his body was getting teased and prodded by Dean. He gripped Dean tightly as his legs tried to go up and around but failed thanks to the alcohol going through him. Then, Dean sat back up and unzipped his pants.

The sound echoed through the room and into Cas’ drunken mind. Suddenly, he was transported back to the private room. He was alone in the dark with that strange man again. He was touching himself and Cas felt his skin crawl. As his mind reeled, his body reacted accordingly. Suddenly, he wasn’t so hard up for it anymore and all he wanted was to get away.

“Dean…wait…” He said, sitting up. 

Dean was just about to pull down his pants when he saw Castiel sit up. “What’s the matter?” He asked, leaning forward to kiss him. But as his lips came close, Cas pushed him away slightly, causing his lips to brush his cheek.

“No…I mean…” Cas muttered as he pulled himself out from under Dean. “I don’t think I want to anymore.” He looked up at Dean apologetically, hoping he wouldn’t be mad.

He didn’t look mad. But he did look disappointed. “You sure?” He asked. “I mean; I’m not trying to force you or anything. I want you to be comfortable…” He looked so downtrodden, like a kid whose favorite toy broke. Castiel felt bad about it, but he just couldn’t right now. Not with the memory of the performance still going on in his mind. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down at the mattress. Great. Now Dean wouldn’t ever want to come over again. He just ruined it for them both. And just when things were going so well. He waited for Dean’s body to get up and off the bed. But, instead, he leaned forward and lifted his face up to show him his half smile.

“No. Don’t be.” Dean replied. “If you don’t want to then we won’t.” He kissed him on the forehead before showering the rest of his face with love. “Besides; it’ll be better if we’re both sober.” He joked, smiling big.

Cas smiled up at him and nodded. Dean Winchester was a marvelous guy. There weren’t apt words to describe how absolutely amazing he was! Although nothing like this had ever happened to him before, he was sure that none of his other relationships could have handled that. And by the obvious tenting in Dean’s pants he was more than ready. Castiel counted himself astronomically lucky.

“Well.” Dean said, getting up out of the bed. “I’ll just go take care of this. Then we’ll get some sleep.”

Castiel watched him get up and felt even sorrier than before. “You sure you don’t need help?” Help with what? It wasn’t like he needed his hand held for this or something.

Dean laughed though, shaking his head. “Trust me, I’ve had years of practice. I know how to take care of this.” He stuck his tongue out at Castiel who laughed and threw a pillow at him. 

“You perv!”

But when Dean left, Cas’ smile fell. He pulled his legs up to him and hugged himself. His mind started tossing things around for a moment, sending him images and memories that were not all that nice. He just couldn’t shake the feeling of disgust that invaded when he thought about the stranger in the darkness. Sure, nothing had actually happened to him, but it was enough to make him uneasy. He’d have to tell someone about it. Maybe Balthazar. Sam did a lot of private performances so maybe he would have some words of advice for him. One thing was for certain; he could not tell Dean. 

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Cas looked up into the worried face of Dean as he stood in the doorway. Immediately, he put on a smile and shook his head. “No! No. Everything’s fine. I was just lost in thought.” Thinking he had dodged a bullet, he pulled the covers up and over him and patted the mattress next to him. Dean gave him a skeptical look but obeyed, getting into the blankets with him.

Once they were in a comfortable enough position (Dean playing the role of big spoon to Castiel’s little spoon) Castiel finally started to feel better. There was something about Dean’s warmth that just put his mind and body at ease. He just wished that he hadn’t ruined the moment…

“Sorry. For earlier.” He said softly as Dean’s arms wrapped around him.

“Don’t be.” Dean answered, yawning. “Maybe we’ll pick it up again tomorrow.” He teased him sleepily, pressing their bodies close together.

Castiel chuckled but didn’t answer. What if he couldn’t the next time? What if he couldn’t ever again? Suddenly he was starting to get really scared. Maybe he should tell him about what happened. Maybe Dean would know what to do then. “Hey, Dean…” He said into the dark. But the minute he did he heard Dean’s soft snoring behind his head. How someone could fall asleep so fast was beyond him. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

I’ll see if I can talk to Crowley tomorrow. After all, it was his idea to do that performance. If I just explain to him what happened then he might be alright with me just staying on the main stage. He’s said so himself that I draw in the biggest crowds. I shouldn’t be worrying about this. I should just go and tell him personally that I just can’t do those private performances anymore. He’ll understand.

After his little self-pep talk, Castiel let his body relax in Dean’s arms. He could feel the wine doing its job of putting him to sleep and allowed the wave of exhaustion crash over him. Before he finally fell asleep, he muttered to Dean.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

****

Castiel stood in front of the door to Crowley’s office. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. But what else was he to do? He’d gotten himself all the way up here; was he just supposed to turn right back around? That would be rude, he decided, so he lifted a shaking hand and knocked.

When he and Dean arrived at Supernatural that afternoon, everyone was there. Sammy kept pacing around like he had forgotten something and Balthazar looked twice as greasy as usual. Everyone was trying to practice at the same time and several of the staff were mingling about getting things ready. But of course; it was a Friday night. Everyone and their dog would be there to take in the sights and shower money down upon them. But dogs and showers of money were the furthest thing from his mind at that moment. Right now, he was worried that he might lose his job.

Taking another deep breath, he finally got up the courage to knock on the door to Crowley’s apartment/VIP suite. The hallway was even more lavish than the rest of the club, which was saying something! Red plush carpet, dark hardwood on the walls and gold inlay on just about anything that could be inlaid. It was just on the tipping point of being in bad taste.

As he stood there, looking at the gold light fixtures, the door opened. A big brute of a man in a suit and tie stood there, looking like a Russian weight lifter. “Can I help you?” He asked in a deep, intimidating voice.

Castiel was at a loss for words for the moment as the Goliath stood between him and the room beyond. “Uhm…hi, I’m Castiel…could I speak with Mr. Crowley please?” He voice shook despite his attempts to keep calm.

The guard then dropped a bit of his intimidating nature and nodded. “Come in. I’ll let him know that you’re waiting.” He stood to the side so that Castiel could squeeze in between his massive frame and the door.

The room was just as lux as the hallway. There was the wall of windows overlooking the club with the perfect view of the main stage. In the middle of the room was a large glass table surrounded by black square couches. This room had a much more modern feeling than the classic style the rest of the club had, including a glass bar with black marble counter tops. Castiel stood in the middle of the seats, too afraid to sit on them without being invited to. He looked out of the window and watched as Bobby and several other workers went around cleaning tables and setting out chairs for the guests. He was so distracted that he didn’t hear Crowley walk in.

“Hello, Castiel.” He said in his deep, sultry voice. When Castiel turned to see him, it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. 

This man was of average height and stocky build. He wore a nice black suit and a silk tie of a deep, rich purple. His hair was dark brown and he had a vicious face that stared at Castiel as though he were a strip of beef and not a dancer at his club. But the look dissolved for a moment to a much more respectable one as he held out his hand to the couches. “Please. Have a seat.”

Cas took a place in the middle of the couch, placing his hands on his knees a little awkwardly. Crowley offered him a drink, which he declined but his boss poured him one anyway.

“Craig. Aged 30.” He said, handing him the short tumbler. “Sip it lightly or he’ll bite your ass.”

Castiel took the glass but didn’t drink it. As Crowley took his seat, Castiel felt a feeling of dread wash over him. This was the notorious Crowley. Not many people got to see him in the light of day and even fewer got a private audience with him out of the blue like this. He felt way out of his element. He cleared his throat and began in a strained voice. “Uh…thank you for seeing me, Mr. Crowley…”

“Please! It’s just Crowley.” His boss said, lounging in his seat. “As I said before; Mr. Crowley is my father. And it never did like the old bastard myself.”

“Crowley…” Castiel said, clearing his throat again. “Well, first off, thank you for employing me. Supernatural has been good to me for the last couple of months.”

“So I’ve heard. And seen.” Crowley answered. “You’ve got yourself a little fan club out there. Ladies are tripping over each other to get to see ‘The Angel’. At least that’s what they’re calling you.”

Castiel blushed, but he wasn’t sure why. “Yes. And I have been given great tutelage here as well. Balthazar is a wonderful teacher even if he is a little…” He couldn’t say ‘hands on’ or ‘touchy’ so he searched his mental dictionary for a better adjective. “…unorthodox.”

Crowley chuckled at that. “Yes, well Balthazar may be a slob and a slut, but he brings in the crowds. And I can’t argue with those results.” He set his glass, half finished, on the table before leaning back on the couch. “But I’m sure you didn’t just come here to talk about how lovely a time you’re having. What’s on your mind, darling?”

Time to get down to brass tacks. Cas sighed and looked up at Crowley. “It’s about my performance. The private one that you had me do the other day.”

Before he could say another word, Crowley jumped right in. “Oh yes! And what a success you were! My client called me almost immediately afterward, singing your praises. And here I thought you were only a crowd pleaser.”

Oh boy. This was going to be harder than he first thought. “I know, but…it was really uncomfortable.” He said, a little uneasily. “I feel a lot more at ease with a big crowd than with a single person audience.”

Crowley listened to him but then let out a light chuckle. “Oh, Cas…you’re in the wrong business, sweetheart. Whoever said the stripper life was a comfortable one?”

“No one.” Castiel admitted. But he wasn’t going to let himself be bullied out of his mindset. He steeled himself and continued. “But I honestly don’t feel right about it. I know that it sounds silly, but when I was in that room with that man…it just felt wrong.”

Crowley sat there for a moment, contemplating what Castiel had just told him. He kept looking at Castiel, his eyes flickering a little between merriment and curiosity. Finally, just when Castiel felt as though he should say something, Crowley spoke.

“I like to think that my club is a bit more respectable than most other clubs.” He said, his voice even, very businesslike. “We have a little something called integrity. When a client of mine, particularly a high paying, high profile one such as the gentleman you entertained for the other night, asks for complete and utter anonymity, I feel it my obligation to provide them with just that. I also am inclined to give them anything their twisted little heart desires.”

He got up, took his glass and waltzed over to the bar. “That man also happens to be a business partner and a close acquaintance of mine. As such, I am more than a little compelled to grant his every wish. No matter how inconvenient for my employees.”

“But, that’s not a way to run a business.” Castiel blurted out before he could say anything. “I mean, without your employees, this place would just be a bar.”

“That may be true.” Crowley said, pouring himself more to drink. “But without this club, where would all that glorious money be coming from?” He asked pointedly. “The money that you’ve been making since working here has possibly tripled since your last job, yes? I know Ellen Harvelle and I know she didn’t give you even a fraction of what I’m paying you.”

Castiel had to bite his lip. That was true. Not once since working at Supernatural have his heat or lights been turned off and he’d been able to save even more than his usual amount at the end of the month. But was all that money really worth it?

“I’m a very influential man, Castiel.” Crowley continued in his intimidating manner. “I know plenty of people in this city that could make life a living hell for just about anyone.”

Castiel bristled, sitting up straighter. “Are you threatening me, sir?”

Crowley put his hands up and shook his head. “Oh, no! Certainly not! That would be against so many labor laws I can’t even fathom!” He walked back over to the couch, his hand in his suit pocket and the other around his glass of Craig. “What I am saying is that I would like you to perform for that client again. And I’d rather it if you didn’t put up another fuss.”

Caught up in all the frivolity and seduction and glamour around him, Castiel couldn’t think of what else to say. Crowley was so much more intimidating than he ever thought he’d be in person even though he was a good few inches shorter than him. His message was not lost on Cas. If he left, then he might as well move out of the city and he couldn’t do that; not with how well things were going for him! And then there was Dean… Swept up in all the emotions as he was, Castiel could think of only one thing to ask.

“When do I perform?”

“Tuesday night.” Crowley answered, a sly smile on his lips. “12:45 sharp, this time. And no pole. He’ll be expecting something a bit different this time around.”

Somehow Castiel felt as though his time was up. He stood, leaving his glass perspiring as much as he was on the table. “Thank you for your time.” He said stiffly before walking away. As soon as he closed the door and was in the VIP hallway again, he felt the pressure lift off his chest. What just happened? He wasn’t sure, but that didn’t go at all the way he had planned it in his head.

When he got back to the practice room, Balthazar was there, sipping from his usual coffee and his legs laid out as he sat lazily in a chair. “What’s the word, Cas?” He asked. “What did Crowley say?”

Everyone; Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and even a few of the set up crew, stopped what they were doing so they could hear Castiel’s news. He looked around the room, his eyes wide with the shock still lingering before he spoke.

“I’m performing on Tuesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for holding on so long! I'm sorry it took me this long to get this chapter up. Honestly, I didn't think this story would be this long, but I keep getting ideas and they start to pile up! I'll try to get the ball really rolling on this. Here's hoping!!!


	11. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Cas is slated for another private performance, Crowley is expecting something new from him. But Cas is woefully unprepared. Dean comes over to help with some new material but just how receptive is Cas to learning some new tricks? He's about to get a lesson in the art of persuasion...

“This feels silly…” Castiel said to Dean as he straddled his lap. His hands were on his shoulders as he looked down at him, his face flushed pink.

“Trust me! This works every time!” Dean said, his hands on Cas’ hips, helping guide him. 

“I dunno…I’ve never done this before…are you sure this works?” Cas wasn’t so sure and it was written all over his face.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Cas! It’s a lap dance! It’s not quantum physics!” He huffed and gave his partner a semi-frustrated grin. “Look; go put your shirt back on and we’ll start from the top.”

Still unsure about the whole thing, Cas got up off of Dean and fished his shirt up off the floor, putting it back on. 

After his talk with Crowley, Cas was still confused as to whether or not this performance was a good thing. Balthazar seemed pleased and Sam patted Cas’ shoulder as one would a brother-in-arms but that didn’t settle the uneasy feeling he had about the whole business. After all, his boss had basically threatened him with termination if he didn’t comply. But he kept that to himself, promising himself that he wouldn’t tell Dean anything about it. He still hadn’t told him about his last private audience even though it was still on his mind.

But when he did his weekly check of his bank statement, he decided to look at it much more analytically. Supernatural had been treating him well. He had more than enough money to start looking at a bigger place. The square footage alone was reason enough to stay. Hell, if he only worked there for a year, then he might be able to get a good reference and work anywhere he pleased! The world could be his oyster, so long as he put up with a few rotten clams. And it wasn’t like this was the first salacious sighting he’d seen. He still couldn’t force himself to look Lucifer in the eye whenever they passed even when he felt the guy’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

But that wasn’t the only thing worrying him. Ever since Crowley had told him there wasn’t going to be a pole in the room, Castiel had been racking his brain for ideas. By Saturday night, he was freaking out. So Dean decided to come over that Sunday and help him to the best of his abilities. After thorough brainstorming, they had decided on a lap dance.

“An oldie but a goodie!” Dean announced. Although Castiel was still hesitant, Dean pulled up one of the kitchen chairs, pushed the couch back, and turned the living room into an impromptu performance hall. 

Dean had come over at 3 that afternoon. It was now almost 6 and Cas wasn’t any closer to getting the point of this thing. He kept tripping over himself and ended up just sitting on Dean’s lap halfway through. He had the moves, just not the right combination of them. It was a thin line between a dance and outright dry humping that Castiel just couldn’t seem to walk properly.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Cas said as he buttoned his shirt back up. “I mean, can’t I do something else?”

“Like what?” Dean asked. “It’s you and this one guy. It’s not like you’ve got someone to work off of. A lap dance is simple. You’re just over thinking it.”

“We’ve been at this for almost 3 hours.” He said, finishing up the last of his buttons. “And last I checked, Crowley doesn’t pay us by the hour.”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes deeply. He crossed one leg over the other. “Cas, babe. It’s not the end of the world! You just haven’t figured it out yet…”

Castiel gave him a skeptical look. “Well, either you’re a bad teacher or I’m just not getting it.”

“What? Me; a bad teacher?” Dean said with a bit of hurt in his voice. “This shit is simple. I could do it in my sleep.”

Frustrated, Castiel huffed and put his hands on his hips. “Fine! If it’s so easy, then you do it!”

Rolling his eyes and laughing, Dean stood and pointed to the chair. “Alright, alright. Let the master show you how it’s done.”

Castiel took his seat, more fed up than anything else. There was no way that Dean could impress him at this rate. At least, that’s what he told himself. At Dean’s signal, he pushed play on the MP3 player they were using and let the music help Dean along.

Dean took a few beats for himself before starting, roughing his hair up a bit and letting his lips pout perfectly. He locked eyes with Castiel and, instantly, Cas was hooked. How he could draw you in with just a look was amazing. Dean was the supreme ruler of the sultry stare. “Eye contact.” He said lowly as he let his body get into the beat. “That’s paramount. If you don’t have eye contact, then you’ve got nothing.”

Cas knew this, but he nodded slowly as though he was learning it for the first time. Dean walked over to him, running his hand down the back of his neck like he was sweating or something and Cas felt as though he might hop onto his lap at any moment. But instead, Dean circled around behind him, standing over him and running his fingertips along Cas’ shoulders.

“Light touches.” He continued in that after-sex voice of his. “Anything more than that and the client might get the wrong idea. And we both don’t want that.” His last statement sounded almost like a threat but it sent a shiver all over Cas’ body. He suppressed it the best her could, straightening his back and gripping the seat with his hands. 

Still behind him, Dean leaned forward and moved his hands in front of Cas’ chest. He was making the quick jerking motions of someone loosening a tie. “Undo his tie just a little bit.” Dean said, his voice rumbling in his ear. “Just a touch. It’s all about subtlety. And talk to him a little.” He moved his mouth to Cas’ other ear and whispered gently. “You look tired. Must have had a stressful day.”

Cas knew that Dean was just role playing right now, but his senses were in such an overdrive, that he answered. “Yeah. The worst.” He said, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Dean chuckled, walking back around to face him. He took the ends of his shirt and slowly peeled it off him, making sure to roll his chest out and inhaling when his arms were up above his head. This only added definition to Dean’s already pumped physique and Castiel was rapt. Damn it, Dean! How are you so damn good at this! 

“I’m glad you came to see me.” Dean said, his eyes half-lidded but still intense. “I’ve seen the way you look at me from the audience.” He placed one hand on the back of Cas’ chair and swiveled his hips so that his package was facing Cas, but wasn’t right in his face. It was subtle but made a big impact. 

Cas looked up at Dean with his mouth hanging open slightly as Dean talked to him. He was taking in everything that Dean was saying but he was also getting way too turned on than he thought he would. He squirmed in his chair to keep that fact from being too obvious. Dean took that as his invitation and slowly straddled Castiel, gently sitting on his lap. 

“Not too close.” He said softly, showing him just how far he should be from his client’s junk. “It’s a lap dance. You’re not trying to get them out of their clothes. But you want them interested enough to wonder what it would be like if they were.”

Castiel looked down reluctantly and saw that Dean was positioned about a finger’s length away from his manhood. That way Dean wasn’t actually rubbing against it but it still gave him an electric tingle up his spine. Dean tilted Cas’ face up to his so their eyes could lock again. “Eye contact.” He repeated. “Keep eye contact.”

With the beat of the music, Dean began to swivel his hips in a circular motion. He moved his whole upper body in time as well, making his muscles ripple like waves in the ocean. Cas could tell that the majority of his weight was on his legs and not resting on Cas’ lap, allowing Dean to maneuver with much greater ease than he had on his own attempts. 

“Small circles.” Dean said, getting Cas’ attention again as he ran his hand through his hair. “First with one hip…” He demonstrated this, letting his hips roll against Cas’ left thigh. “…then the other.” He did the same on the right thigh. 

Cas was so enthralled by Dean’s performance that he didn’t want it to stop. Tentatively, he placed his hands on Dean’s hips as they moved elegantly and masterfully on his lap. He could feel the muscles move against his fingers and that was even more thrilling than anything. Dean smirked and used this as another teaching opportunity. He stood, backed away half a step, spun around, and sat back down, this time with his back to Cas. Cas’ hands went right back to his hips as Dean worked it even harder.

Dean arched his back dramatically as his hips moved in those perfect, tiny circles along his thighs. It was so deliciously close to his manhood that he could feel himself showing without meaning to. He placed his hand on top of Castiel’s and continued his routine for a few moments more. And then, just as Castiel felt as though it was going to get really serious, just when he was sure that Dean would turn back around and take him, right then and there, Dean stood, looked back over his shoulder, smirked, and walked away.

“You gotta know when to call it.” He said when he was almost out of the room. “You’ve got to be the one to call time or else it could go on forever and the client could either get bored or clingy. Don’t be afraid to walk away when you know the job is done.”

Dean then walked away in that same, bow legged strut that he was famous for, disappearing down the hallway, leaving Castiel with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. His hands were still out in front of him, holding onto invisible hips. He blinked, lowered his arms, and slumped down in his chair. He felt as though he had been holding his breath the entire time and the sigh that escaped his throat was satisfied and a little confused. But as he sat there, Dean poked his head out from the hallway. His face was back to normal and he looked as though he hadn’t just performed the single most amazing lap dance that Cas had ever received in his entire life.

“Did that clear up a few things for you?” He asked.

Castiel sat there for another moment before he got up. He walked over to Dean with purpose, took his hand, and led him the rest of the way down the hall.

“Hey!” Dean said playfully, letting Cas drag him along. “Where are we going?”

“I still have a few questions for you.” Castiel said, his voice adamant. “And the only place to answer them is in my bed.”

Dean chuckled as he was led to Castiel’s bedroom. “You’re such a task master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another looooooooong wait on this one. I am such a bad author! But I'm glad you all are sticking around! I promise it will have an ending so long as I don't procrastinate! If they had a degree in Procrastination I would hold it with honors...

**Author's Note:**

> Those of you who have already read this fic on my tumblr page will see there are a few changes. You could say that version was a rough draft! Also, this is my first fic with chapters. I plan on releasing a chapter once every week. I apologize if that plan falls through. Thank you all for your support and please leave comments! Thank you all so much!


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